Slaughts
by Perfectly Censored
Summary: AU: I never said it would be easy. Fighting for what you need is never a menial task. May my bones break and my blood flow down on this floor. I will have it. There's no other choice. HarukaxMichiru
1. Chapter 1

Chapter 1

Cold. Chills.

The roar was a dull blur. It passed between bated ears, danced in front of glassy eyes. It was all done. It could have been different. Why? Something flashed in those eyes. Those emerald pools. Pain? Blood had stained the ground. It had taken hold of everything. And here she was. Sitting in it. The very cause. The very reason. It rose and fell with shock. Horror was the only emotion now. A bitter end. A bitter beginning. Her muscles ached. God…did they ache. What had just happened? She tossed her eyes to the side to see it. What was that? So desperately she wanted to reach out and touch the blurred shadow. But her arms. They weren't moving. She wasn't moving. Oh God. She wasn't moving.

Realization finally dawned on her, a blood curdling shriek pulling itself from her throat. It shook her entire core, reverberating and bouncing around her chest as the tears began to boil at the corners of her eyes. She glanced up at the victor, his hands still around her neck. Her breath caught. Get off. The cries and screams of those around were all but a faint buzz. "If you do the job right, you'll be earning more money than you could imagine!" It cut through her. What had she done? She screamed again, adrenaline pumping through her veins as she lunged back at him. Her fingers grasped his jaw, the other in the nape of his neck. She pulled, a sickening snap sending shivers down her spine. She was spent. His huge body tumbled forward, his hands slackening. He fell on her. Who was clearly the victor now? Furious tears streamed down her cheeks as she pushed him off. The pads of her fingers pressed lightly into that creamy porcelain skin. Still warm. This wasn't happening. She tried to open her mouth to say something, but she couldn't. Her voice wasn't coming. And they were all there.

A crack. Pain. And she hunched forward, blood falling from between her fingers.

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The Roarin Twenties.

A time where America was big and booming. Where everything was looking up, people investing, the money and economy seeming to be plentiful. Where hallmark families sat down and ate dinner together, dad smoking a pipe and reading the paper after a long day at work and mom putting the pie upon the table. He worked hard to provide for his family any way that he could. And they appreciated him for it. The world was good. The country was good. That's what they always wanted you to think.

At least, that's what the generations before them had thought.

The land of the free.

More like the land of the wealthy.

They could do whatever they pleased. Did it matter that it had stopped the pies? Stopped the tobacco? Stopped everything that they had known. The government was responsible. They had taken it all away. He was an honest working man, minding and tending his bar. The best in town, a lot of people said. Home brewed. Expensive. But caught at a good price. Too bad it was all for naught. Everywhere else, it seemed, the world was going on with its business. There was nothing wrong with that, but still. What about the little guy?

She wasn't happy when she saw those men approach the door, their business suits all done up nice, their shoes shined, hair slicked back. But it wasn't like she hadn't been expecting it. Her eyes were hard emeralds in their sockets, her handsome features torn down into a frown as she stood behind the counter, her hands busy with a mug of soon to be beer. Brewed right in the back. The best stalk any man would taste. She would bet her life on it. But soon, it would all be tales and rumors. Their voices were deep and penetrating as they spoke outside of the door. Something about…what was that? Raising an eyebrow, she stared out the window, catching a glimpse of what she assumed to be an agent. He shook his head exasperated as they finally made their way inside.

She watched as they scanned the patrons of the small, dimly lit room. A smirk graced her features when all they could find were hard working men on their way home for the night. Nothing double sided here. Not a thing.

'What is this?' she thought as one of them stepped forward, his shoes clicking lightly against the aged wooden planks beneath. His eyes were a dull grey, his hair a similar shade and his demeanor even more so. She raised an eyebrow when he cleared his throat and slapped a piece of paper down upon the counter.

"Excuse me, young man," he began. She didn't even stop him. It was a common mistake. Her hair was cropped short, she was wearing trousers, and certainly, she was working. So, it was forgivable. But, if she did say so herself, she was mighty handsome. Her smirk spread further at the statement. "By law, you are to cease the selling and producing of all alcoholic beverages within the next twenty four hours. As of this morning, January 16, 1920, it is illegal to produce and sell anything with said contents. Do I make myself clear?" Her eyes grew wide at the statement. Her lip twitched. Her throat felt dry. What? This was the first time she had heard anything about this law. Maybe it was a hoax.

"Unfortunately for you, pal, I don't find this funny. Leave now before I get Charlie to see you out." She motioned to the corner where a large man sat, his face scarred with the wars. The quieter man paled a little when he saw the burly figure, his fingers subtly grasping around the binder that he had.

"And neither do I, young man. I assure you, if we find out you've poured a single drop more than you already have, we will throw you to the county faster than you can spit, son." A threat. Her eyes locked with the man, her handsome features set in stone. Silence pervaded the bar.

"Haruka," a voice called out from the back. It was older. Wisened. Probably belonging to a man in his mid forties. All assumptions were swept aside when a broad shouldered man emerged from the back, his brown eyes settling upon the guests. He ran his large hands through his sandy blonde hair as he approached, an inquisitive look in his eyes.

"Mr. Tenoh, as law would have me do, your place of business is from hence forth closed. You have twenty four hours to clean and purge this place from the presence of alcohol and anything closely related to it. We will be back." They should have known.

When the man was the one providing, how could you stick it to him?

The troubles were just beginning.

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1922.

It had been two years since that day. Of course they had savings. Her father had made sure of that. They got by, even though he was unemployed. Even though her mother was sick. And she couldn't do a damn thing about it. But now. They had sold their house. A beautiful estate complete with a white picket fence and everything. Why did this matter? It did. It mattered the world to her.

Haruka Tenoh.

A fourth generation immigrant from Japan. One could barely tell she was even closely related to the little island. She was handsome. Tall, muscular, well toned. Her eyes were dark emeralds, and her sandy blonde hair was cropped short. It was easier this way. Men wouldn't pick on her and the women. Oh. The women. They would flock. And it was nice.

Without the alcohol ban, there wouldn't have been anything. No Slaughts. No fights. No blood. No Kaioh's. And no Michiru. Which was worse? No money? Or no Michiru? Haruka couldn't honestly say, even if she wanted to.

But never mind that. What mattered was the present, something that would quickly become the past.

She looked up at the grey sky, her eyes reflecting the stormy emotion that she perceived. Rain was threatening to spit down at her, threatening to drench her to the bone. Bones. Firewood! Right! Shaking herself out of her revere, she put one foot in front of the other. Her shoes had definitely seen better days. The brown leather was worn so thin that she could feel the wind passing through it. She could feel every rise and fall in the ground beneath her, every single pebble. But what did it matter? She had no time to care for herself. At least she had a coat. At least she had trousers that fit her, tattered as they were. At least her shirt hadn't been made into strips of rag…yet. At least she was alive. So long as she was, they would be too. She would make sure of it.

Confident. Maybe even a little bit arrogant. What had she to lose? The young woman bent over a small heap of garbage that she had started to pass in the dank alley way. She grimaced a little as she tossed the rotting pieces of trash aside, searching for anything. Anything to eat, to make a fire. A sigh rolled out her lips as she stood up straight, her fingers running through her hair. She hadn't eaten in a while. None of them had.

"Well. At least there's always bugs," she said to herself, her voice housing a husky, bitter edge to it as she chuckled helplessly to herself. Something glinted out of the corner of her eye. Street lamps flickered to life, illuminating the edge of the alley that she stood in. What was that? She moved a little closer to the shiny surface. Her eyes grew wide when she saw the silver. A nickel.

"Lucky!" She said to herself as she reached down to pick it up hastily. But not before a loud growl issued to her right. She looked down the connected alley to see a shadow of a man, his eyes ravenous, his hair mangled and marred. His eyes were wild, those yellow teeth barred as he moved defensively forward. He looked as though he was about ready to pounce. No way. This was hers. This was their break. With this they almost had enough. The young blonde snarled a little, her eyes now holding murderous intentions.

Instinct upon instinct. She needed this. Her muscles jumped as they tensed, her shoulders hunching forward as she slowly stood, the cool metallic surface burning deeply into her palm. Over her dead body. Both of them knew it.

And if that's what it was going to take, then so be it.

The large man lunged out of the shadows, his hands grabbing her shoulders tightly as he pushed the young woman hard into the brick that was directly behind her. She did not feel the pain. Only the raw instinct. She gazed up at the broken man for a split second before she dipped down low. With all of his weight upon her shoulders, he stumbled forward, a surprised yelp issuing from his throat as he was thrown off balance. Her chance. With one sweeping movement, she brought her fist up to meet with his ribs. It would bruise. But she didn't want that. Moving with her momentum, the young woman was now to the side, her elbow coming into contact with his neck. She was sure that one hurt. She couldn't help but smirk.

Another blow to his rib. Again. And again. And again. Until she felt that snap. Heard the crunch. Felt the bone give way. His eyes widened with pain, his breath coming sharp and fast. He collapsed. And she was the victor. That nickel. It was hers. She opened her palm to look at the coin, a small morose frown placed upon her lips. Finally. They were almost there. How much longer. She couldn't tell. One more kick, just for good measure, she began to walk away, but not before a long drawn out clap caught her attention.

It was in this moment that she had no idea how vital that small scrap would be. She had no idea what was just beginning. She had no clue when that man in the white suite came out of the shadows, his eyes dark with mischief. But what else was a desperate man to do? She would swallow her pride for any semblance of hope right now. Anything at all. That's probably the only reason why she allowed him to approach.

"My my my, son. You make quick work," he mused, his voice invasive. Prideful. Rich.

"You do what you can when you're desperate enough," she replied back. Thank god she had such an ambiguous voice. Who was he? God? He probably thought so. She scoffed inwardly at the thought.

"You mean when you want it enough?"

"No." She eyed him, her eyebrow quirked curiously. What an odd choice of words. "If I could just take everything I wanted, like I did here, then I would not be in this situation in the first place, would I…_sir_?" She said it with a sneer. Disrespect danced in her shining emerald eyes. Her fists balled a little. He was probably here to flaunt that which he had in front of her. Haruka snorted.

"You've got fire," he mused. She snorted again, rolling her eyes.

"And you smell like a dog," she growled. She didn't have time for this. Throwing her head a little, she pushed past the man, her shoulder colliding into his with a bit more force than she had initially intended. This was pointless. She needed to be at home. No. It wasn't home. It was a little shack with an ill thatched roof and a rickety old plank for a door. Regardless, she had to get there before it got too cold. A hand gripped her shoulder, fingers pressing hard into her flesh. He wasn't going to let her go.

"A dog that can strip the flesh of any scrappy little swine," he shot back. The girl let out a sigh, stopping in her tracks.

"Go away."

"No."

"I don't even know you."

"But you should want to."

"I think I know perfectly well what I should and shouldn't want to do. And what I don't want is to know you."

"That's too bad. There would have been a lot more silver involved if you would have kept your fat snout shut for a few seconds." Her eyes widened. What was this? Blackmail? A job? Did he want...oh nasty. She wasn't some soldier, or some young boy that…oh wait. Right. She did look the part.

"I'm not interested in milking your little willy." She could have said it so much rougher.

"That's not what I'm interested in, son." She turned to him and gave an inquisitive brow. She was desperate….she really truly was.

"What do you mean?" She asked. Her voice was gruff still. She hated to bend to people like this. She would have preferred to die rather than go and beg to someone. But this wasn't only her life that she was playing with.

"Oh, I see. Now you're attention has peaked. Too bad, I'm bored of you now." He shrugged his shoulders as he took his hand off of the young woman, his arms crossed in front of his chest. What a child. She rolled her eyes, her fingers running roughly through her hair in sheer agitation.

"Either you tell me and stop playing games, or I leave. I have more important things to deal with than to sit and banter with a brown nosed leech." She would give him five more seconds before she left.

One. Her eyes locked on his, hers narrowing at the notion.

Two. She grit her teeth when he just shrugged his shoulders.

Three.

"All the money you could possibly need." This had to be a joke. She shook her head and laughed in his face.

"Yeah right. If anyone had that sort of cash, they wouldn't be dishing it out to the first person combing the allies."

"It's not a joke. I would just need some services in return." There it was. That word. Services. She wasn't some slum slut. She didn't need to let some man have his way with her body. That was the last thing she would do.

"I'm no ones lap dog," she growled as she began to turn. But he caught her shoulder again and forced her back around.

"Sure, but a prize? A champ? All you'd have to do is take care of some other men every Friday night. That's not so hard, right? You can already hold your own in a fight, so why not profit from it?" Was he suggesting…wait. What was this crazy bastard suggesting?

"Wait. A fist fight?" Her interest had been caught.

"Yes. A simple fist fight. All you'd have to do is go down, rough some men up, then you could go home with a fist full of cash and spend it as you pleased. Of course, if you had no home to go to, there would always be lodging at my estate. What do you say, spit?" She didn't like the name that he had just made up for her.

"Haru." Hooray for sexual ambiguity.

"What does it matter, champ? I've been watching you. I'm sure your parents deserve much better." Her gaze grew steely, her fists tightening into balls as he said this. What did he know about her parents? He was an outsider. A rich slug. Her jaw grew ridged as he moved around her in a circle, eyeing the well built body with a small nod of his head. Red flags were going up everywhere. This guy. He was seedy. Something about him was underhanded. Sneaky. Bad for business.

"How much?" But she was desperate. Her pride bubbled in her chest, pushed down and forgotten for the time being.

"Enough."

"How much." It was a demand not a question.

"Enough to pull them out of that shack and put them up in a proper abode." She bit her lip, contemplating. He was holding something back. She knew it. But what had she to lose? Really. It was a question that she kept on asking herself. What was there to lose? There was nothing. Nothing could be worse. And he was basically offering her free money.

"Fine." A large smile spread across the older mans lips, his sapphire eyes twinkling with delight as he clapped the young woman upon the back.

"Wonderful, wonderful!" he exclaimed. His short hair bounced as he took her hand in his and shook it roughly. "You can start tonight!" She blinked quickly, startled. What did he say? Her nose twitched a little as she tried to pull away. It was Friday, wasn't it? He would have none of it, though. Every muscle in her body was screaming at her to get away, but she just couldn't humor them. His arm was slung around her shoulders, pushing her in the direction of the street. The purr of an engine caught her ears. An auto? It had been ages since she had ridden in one. A bit of childish excitement sparked in her eyes at the prospect. And he didn't miss a beat.

"Welcome to the family, Haru."

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"Circling to the right, Bones delivers Hunnigan a mighty blow. Oh! What was that? Hunnigan is in the dirt! Is something broken? And there he goes, Bones is on top of him, pummeling with everything he's got. Strike after strike to his fallen opponents face. Oh, there's blood! Blood is spewing out of his nose, it must be broken! Will he submit? What is that man doing? Oh! OH! HUNNIGAN HAS JUST JAMMED HIS THUMB INTO BONES'S EYE!! OH MY GOD!"

The yells of the crowd shook the window that was placed in front of her, the cries and jibs of excitement echoing loudly throughout the establishment. The spectators themselves were about to pummel each other, it seemed. That's what gambling did. Especially when something like this could have happened. It never ceased to surprise her.

"HUNNIGAN HAS JUST PUSHED BONES TO THE GROUND, HIS FISTS FLYING. THERE YOU HAVE IT FOLKS! THERE IT IS!" Her voice echoed over the building, drowned out, she imagined, by the excited yells. "With an endless onslaught of fists, his face is more than disfigured. But wait, is there something else? Will something else happen? He's not moving." Hearts were stuck in throats as they watched. Maybe something miraculous would come of this. Perhaps their favored fighter would pull something out of his bag of miracles. But he didn't. "Hunnigan has just pulled Bones up from his slumped position. His back is against the wall now, our underdogs knee jamming into his rib. I don't know about you, but that looked painful."

She very well couldn't say that it sounded painful. She could barely hear anything in her little box. She spoke excitedly into the microphone that was placed before her, her soft, feminine voice echoing through all that listened. This den of sin. She didn't doubt that a female announcer was one of the charms of the place. This…place. Seedy. Dark. Hideous place. Well, at least, that's what it would seem to most who hadn't spent time in those seats, gambling and betting. It was the easiest way to make a quick buck. Sure, sometimes you would lose everything, but other times, you'd gain just as much. It was a price a lot of working men were willing to make. And it was a price that the rich were willing to die for. What was the point? They controlled everything anyways. Money made the world go round. That's just how it was. Nothing could change that.

"Oh, he has him by the collar now. And raising his hand above his head, what does he have? The white! He has the white!" She gazed down at what was before her, those sparkling sapphire eyes dull with disinterest. Of course she was a good actress. What else was she good for? She saw the man, his battered and beaten form looking up towards the box in which she stood. She nodded her head before speaking once again. They had a mutual understanding. "Time to send that dog to the slaughts." It was the last thing she had to say. Out with it. It was done. The roar of the crowd shook the window once again. She could feel it in her very core. She took a deep breath as she pushed her chair away from the counter that was placed before her. Something was stirring in her stomach. Maybe she was hungry. Probably. She hadn't eaten since that morning.

Mind preoccupied, she didn't even notice the brutality that was taking place down upon the floor. Everything was warm. She felt caged. She had to get out for some air. The young woman stood, her legs automatically going towards the door where she opened it. Another few feet later, she was slipping out the heavy steel door clearly marked EXIT.

The chill of the evening hit her flushed face. Swallowing softly, she leaned back against the alley, her eyes closed for a few moments. It had always been this way. Ever since she was a small child. Every week, these fights would be held. Every week she would attend them and announce for them. Every week, she would put countless men to their deaths. She felt like the executioner. The ones down on the floor. They were just the tools. What was really the difference? She bit her lip as she stood in the shadows, her modest white dress lit delicately in the moonlight. A beauty, she was. One would think her fragile, soft. And in reality, she was. But she had to act for the crowd. If the profits dropped, it would be her fault. She had to keep them wanting more. That's what a good announcer did. She cleared her throat. Generally, she was a quiet, soft spoken woman. In fact, if anyone saw her outside of that booth, they would think her completely changed, or would not associate that voice with the polite woman that stood before them.

After all, that was one rule.

No one was allowed to see her. It was a liability thing. It would be bad for business if something bad were to happen to her. So who she was in that room and who she was every where else were entirely two different entities in the publics mind.

But this wasn't what she needed. Taking a deep breath through her nose, she ran her fingers through her long wavy hair. It was blue. Weird. A pale blue. Beautiful in its own right, but certainly an oddity. It was a family trait. Just something that happened to be infused into their genetic coding. They would almost be done cleaning. She was sure of it. That crew. It took them four minutes and twenty three seconds exactly. Every time. She counted. A pastime for those long minutes where all she could do was sit in that room by herself and in her own company. So. She counted. Counted a lot of things, usually. Sometimes it would be the seconds, sometimes it would be how many balding men were in her direct sight. It was just a method of passing time.

Three minutes and thirty seconds into the cleaning, she noticed familiar headlights shine down her way. She looked towards them, her lithe form shrinking a bit more around the corner that she was situated on. The damp ground echoed as footsteps disturbed the murky puddles below, the purr of the engine peeking her curiosity. So. Something fresh was about to turn its head, huh? Curiosity getting the better of her, she peeked her head around the corner, but made sure she wasn't seen or noticed. White suit. Of course. Of course that's where he had gone. Her eyebrow shot up when she saw what was under his arm.

Scrawny. Certainly.

He had definitely seen better days, she was sure. This new man was thinner than most, but still seemed to have a semi decent build about them. His fists were balled as though he was a little uncomfortable with having the rich man in such close proximities. His knuckles, she noticed, were a little red, as if he had just been in a fight. Probably had been. That's generally when he brought new toys home. She rubbed her forehead. Helpless. He was a helpless man. She shook her head, frowning a little as she stared at the young man's back. He really didn't know what he was getting into, did he? Poor guy. She was honestly doubting whether or not he would last the trial run.

Everyone else was so much bigger. Their muscles so much sleeker. They were strong, desperate animals. And rightfully so, they were kept in their cages. This one, this one was different definitely. But there must have been SOME promise, because she knew that the man in the white suit would definitely not squander his money. He didn't lose intentionally. In fact. He hated losing at all. When he lost…bad things happened. She shuddered at the thought.

The young man turned. And she stopped. Stopped what, who knew? But she just stopped. He was handsome. And that was just the tip of the iceberg. The air about him was arrogant, confident, even though his eyes were sunken in with what she assumed was lack of sleep or lack of food. Nothing that couldn't be remedied. Her throat tightened as she watched his hesitant movements. Watched him. She could feel a small blush creep up over her cheeks, her eyes intently fixed upon him. Pity she would see such a handsome man beaten. It almost made her want to grab his arm and push him back where he had come from. She knew that he would certainly be better off. Even if he didn't know it yet. Sandy locks danced around his dirty face, his green eyes brushing the corner which she hid around. Holding her breath, she darted out of view. Not to be seen. She wasn't supposed to be seen. Pressing her body against the building, she closed her eyes and waited.

"Hey, Ru! They need you!" The sudden call of her name made her jump. She had lost track of time. She jerked her head to look at the bald janitor. She nodded her head, smiling politely before she moved past him. Swallowing, she pushed down her shaken demeanor and fought back her blush before she moved inside.

"My apologies Dave."

With that, she was back in her dark room, sitting down at her chair and clearing her voice before she flicked on the mic. "Sorry for the wait folks! It appears as though a new cat crossed my path while I grabbed a bit of air. I'm sure you'll become acquainted, but in the mean time, let's bring out Smith and Williams!"

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AN: There you have it. Okay, I know I basically fell off the face of the planet, but you have to forgive me! The whole internet thing was getting old, and who would have thought that I would revert back into my fanfiction phase? Really. But, anyways. Here it is. My new fic. I know I know. It's been a while. And I really am a bit rusty, but everything is going according to my plan. Yes. Yes it really is. If anyone has any questions, feel free to drop me a line. A review would be wonderful. Fantastic, even! And before anyone really does ask, both families migrated to the states generations ago. It just seemed to fit into my story better. I couldn't get the whole twenties look out of my head, so I just went with it, as you can tell. I can honestly say that I don't expect a lot of hits or reviews, but I can wish and dream, can't I? And before anyone goes all "GROSS" this IS a Haruka x Michiru fic. If you have a problem with it, then don't read it. In all honesty, I should probably censor myself (haha, irony) and put this as rated M for excessive gore, violence, and probably a bit of sexuality, but I'm not really in the mood and if I did put it on M, then I'm sure there would be even less feedback. Really, the more reviews I get, the more inspired and motivated I will be to update. ; I have a bad habit of forgetting or procrastinating, but! Never fear! If all goes well, then I'm going to FORCE myself into updating weekly. Probably every Saturday. (I'm so serious about this one that I even am in the process of a chapter outline. Amazing, no?) With the exception of the next two weeks since I'm going to be in Fargo, North Dakota. That's only a 26 hour road trip. -.- Annnnyways. Thanks for reading. Please tell me what I could do better, for improvement is key! And if you can't think of anything, stroke my ego. Please. It's gone untouched in so long. Haha. Anyways.

Till next time.

PS: So…I don't have an editor right now, so until she gets her internet working again, you guys are just going to have to deal with me. Raw, emotionless me. .-. Thanks for the understanding!


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

It was all happening so fast. Everything was moving around her head in an incessant buzz, memories of what had just transpired still being processed in her mind, his words still hot on her ears. The family? She had a family. Was this man barking mad? She was seriously starting to wonder. Blinking a little, she looked to her right, her eyes falling upon him. His huge grin. What was he so happy about? Haruka raised an eyebrow, her emerald gaze tentatively roaming over the smaller details that she hadn't been able to digest in the dark alley.

Mr. White (for that's what she was calling him since he was still nameless) stood about an entire head below her own, a fact that made her chest puff out a little and a smirk light her features. Who was the big man now? He looked to be about the age of her father, maybe a few years younger. Of course, the man looked better kept. Lucky bastard got to bathe every day, she assumed. There were laugh lines around his eyes, his lips always pulled up into a smile. Maybe he wasn't so bad? Ha. Fat chance, she knew it was all a façade. There was no way an honest, decent man would come out and 'help the less fortunate,' a term that she was sure that he would have used if given the proper opportunity. She wasn't sure. The red flags were never wrong, and now more than ever they seemed to be hitting her in the face. That smile quickly turned into a smug smirk. Ah. There it was. He was hiding something.

He turned to look at her, his hard sapphire eyes full of excitement. She held back the need to jump when their eyes met, held back the need to look away. She would not stand down. No one had power over her. No one. Her emerald eyes sparked with a rebellious shimmer as she stared. Could anything be more awkward? Probably not. Her insides squirmed, her lip twitching. And that smug face. Taunting her. Daring her. To do what? Her brow creased a little as she tried to figure it out. The light of the illuminated street hit her face. Oh yeah. They were still walking.

"Come, there are matters at hand that need my attention," he said, his voice masking a small hint of…what? WHAT?! GOD! It was infuriating. Something was there, but she couldn't see what it was, and it was driving her nuts. Her jaw twitched a little as she narrowed her eyes. Why should she trust this man? She had no reason to. For all she knew, he was going to be taking her to some back road, take out a gun, kill her, and then bury her body in a shallow grave. Serial killers did that, sometimes. The prospect didn't really frighten her, though. Pity, his suit was sure to get all dirty and stained. Sad. She was certain if that were the case, he would have someone else do it for him while he watched. Now…would that make him the killer, or the person who actually did the deed? What a perplexing question.

The idea made a small smirk twitch at the corner of her mouth, amusement twinkling in her eyes. A chuckle threatened to surface from her chest, but since she didn't really feel like sharing, well, anything with Mr. White, she feigned a small cough. His eyes finally broke from that stare. Thank goodness. It was making her uncomfortable, but she would be damned if he ever found out about that. Slowly, she followed the direction that he had turned. And her mouth almost dropped. Not ONLY was it an AUTO. No. Of course not. She should have known. It was an object that screamed "look at me, I have money, you should love me." If she hadn't already had any preconceived notions towards the man, then she may have fallen for its trick. But. But. It was just _begging _for her to go tinker with its insides. Make it roar. That soft purr. What was that? It wanted her to drive it. All. Night. Long. A groan was hot in her throat as she stared at the beautiful vehicle.

A 1922 Roll-Royce. It looked rich. It smelled rich. Hell, she was sure that it took diamonds instead of gasoline. But. What else was she supposed to say? Okay, so maybe she was a little hopeless. But. But. But. Childish intrigue caught in her eyes as she moved towards the car, still under the man's arm. The spell had been cast. She would probably follow him to her own grave, lie down and then wait to be buried now. It was like love at first sight. If she were in better company, she probably would have already drooled a lake. But, unfortunately, she wasn't. And she was still wholly aware.

"Shall we?" He asked, a knowing glimmer. All she could do was nod her head. Words were failing her, for once in her quick-witted life. There was no doubt in her mind that this man could have what ever he wanted. A grimace swept over her features as she looked at him, the image of the car still burning in her retinas. Probably blood money. That's how he got all of these fancy…things. But, she was a woman of her word. She would at least see where he was taking her before she left. If she didn't like it, then she could just vanish. Who would really notice a slum dog? Hiding in the shadows is what they did best. She snickered a little at the thought. Though, they did tend to have a rather vicious bite. Rabies, sometimes. It would be nice to sink her teeth into the smug man next to her, if only to infect him with her hypothetical disease, but that would come later. Until after she saw what he was proposing. Later. Yes.

Her face was set in stone as she watched the driver, a blank faced man dressed in a classy black suit, open the door to the vehicle. He motioned towards the interior, indicating that they should get in. Her hands tightened a little as she watched Mr. White get into the car, then pat the seat next to himself. Metal bit into her skin. She really did need this. With her jaw tight, she slowly bent her towering form and sat down, the fresh scent of tobacco making her nose burn. The door closed once she was situated, her eyes looking out the windshield. The night was dark. Streets void of life, the shops all bedded down for the night. Small lights flickered in the town houses, families going about their nightly business while her stomach twisted. Her resolve was reinforced at the sight of the warm windows.

Something heavy landed around her shoulders, her nose wrinkling slightly with disgust as she looked at the arm that was draped around her. The man smiled lightly at her when she met his eyes. Oh God. He was going to start talking again. She just knew it.

"I think you'll come to like what you do, Haru." She raised an eyebrow. What was she supposed to do, really? Just beat the hell out of men, right? That didn't seem too bad.

"Is that so," she grunted, her gaze disgruntled and untrusting as she looked out the window once again, the passing scenery making her a little anxious. What if he really was going to attempt murder? No, she chided to herself, don't be stupid. He would have done it in that alley.

"What, so cut and curt? Aren't you even curious?" he asked.

"No."

"Really?"

"No, I lied." Sarcasm dripped from her voice as she crossed her arms in front of her chest.

"I thought so!" he chuckled. She rolled her eyes. Apparently he was either dense or was doing this intentionally. The probability was dead even, she decided. Haruka grunted again, her leg bouncing up and down with the anxiety that she was starting to feel. They were quickly moving away from the residential area of the city and were closing in on the industrial sector. Perfect place to dump a body. Towering warehouses reached up towards the sky, blocking out the stars and the moon, casting all that was upon the ground in the deepest shadow. Small lamps quelled the darkness every once and a while, but it didn't really take long for the darkness to take over once again. She could feel the unhappy and perplexed gaze that had fallen upon her turned head. God, he was nosey. Irritation bubbled in her stomach as she looked back at him.

"What?" It was swift, bitter and snipped.

"Maybe you should pay better respect to the man that's helping you pick yourself off your feet," the remark was snide. True colors. Anger flashed in her eyes as she locked gazes with his.

"Maybe you should stop thinking yourself God and maybe I'll try my hand at this 'respect' you speak of. A near impossible task set upon both of us, ne?" He leaned in close to her face suddenly, his teeth bared, a sharp snarl gracing his lips.

"Boy, you better start worshiping, because I can take everything you have left. You may not think you have nothing left to lose, but you do. And I will take it all, make no mistake. So mind your tongue before I cut it out." Malice poured through those icy tones, a small shiver racing down her spine. Her own anger boiled at his bold words. But this wasn't for her. She wasn't here for herself. Reluctantly, she snorted, her jaw clamped tightly to prevent a retort. Any breaks were a Godsend. And this, it seemed, was a huge one. If she screwed this up, then she was sure she would punch herself in the face later. At her apparent submission, Mr. White pulled back, that careless smile once again on his face.

"Almost there," he said with a good humored pat on her shoulder. He was lucky that he had money because if he didn't, she would have broken his teeth a long time ago, just so his smile was a little less charming. Her gaze rested out the window once again, the car rolling to a stop, a warehouse looming over her. It looked dark. Sure seemed abandoned. And it wasn't even that big. She raised an eyebrow. Weird. Well. It looked like that Hannibal Lector over there would get his dinner. She shrugged her shoulders. If he could catch it. Nervously, she watched as the driver opened her door. Okay. Taking a deep breath, she got out, Mr. White shooting out almost immediately after. He kept his arm around the young woman as he motioned towards the door.

"This is the first step towards fortune, son." His voice was low. She looked around.

"…A dark building and a long alley. Seems like a rather dead fortune to me," she replied. Hey, she was just being honest. The man chuckled to himself and patted her shoulder.

"You'll see." Without another word said, he pushed open the door, the smell of tobacco hitting her face with full force. Her father may have smoked it, but it still never ceased to amaze her how bitter and disgusting it smelled. Left a bad taste in her mouth. She blinked rapidly. The light made her eyes dilate, temporarily blinding her. She could feel the man pushing her inside, therefore, she really didn't have any choice not to go.

Slowly, her eyes adjusted, their lids fluttering open to reveal what she would certainly call a sight to see. Her handsome features turned down into an indifferent frown as she looked around. The music was loud, blaring almost. A band was situated just to her left, a stage just behind them. It was jazz at its best. Trombones, trumpets, saxophones, they all wailed through those blazing notes together to create the sass; that jive that was supposed to elicit immoral behaviors. People milled all about, some dancing or nodding their heads, most making their way towards another part of the busy establishment. Talk of this, and talk of that mixed with each other to make the constant buzz that passed between her ears. Sometimes, she could make out a few words, however, most times it was all a bunch of jumbled sounds. She let her eyes fall upon the stage, the dancing girls making a small smirk find its way onto her lips. And they were mighty saucy; in fact, a few of them were even topless. A place catered to men, naturally. Despite being somewhat pleased, she couldn't help but roll her eyes.

To her right was a high counter, bottles and a high mirror placed behind, a man in a pinstriped shirt shooting the breeze with a customer. Tables were situated in front, many men sitting and talking to each other, some slumped over as if they were sleeping. She had seen that before. When she worked at her fathers…wait. A bar. There was alcohol here. Her eyes grew wide, anger welling up inside of her. What was this? What was this place?

She felt herself being moved further in, men in suits passing all around her. They were probably the rich crowd. They could do as they pleased. Money made the world go round. Nothing enveloped that saying more than this place. This. What was this? She still was unsure. Her eyes drifted to the cat walks, noticing the walkways and private boxes. So. It was like a club. A club for the rich? No. Her eyes graced a working man. There were more of them than she had first noticed. Average men. Wait. She knew that one! He used to come into the bar all the time. Her lip twitched, eyebrows furrowing as she looked to the man beside her.

"Welcome to the Slaughts, my boy! Greatest, grandest, richest business to grace this earth!" He opened his arms wide, motioning to all that she had already seen. Her hands balled into fists. Now. Now she was curious. What was she supposed to do here? There was nothing that she could possibly accomplish that wasn't already being done. She ran her fingers through her hair, the other hand remaining balled. She gave an irritated sigh. So this was just to get a rise out of her. She understood. She grit her teeth, her form towering over the man beside her now, anger pouring off of her in waves. Oh. She was going to break those charming teeth, even if it killed her. No one made a fool of her.

"Sorry for the wait folks! It appears as though a new cat crossed my path while I grabbed a bit of air. I'm sure you'll become acquainted, but in the mean time, let's bring out Smith and Williams!" The voice rang out loudly through out the establishment, startling the young woman for a brief second. A round of yells roared from the center of the room. Uh…what?

"Oh! Come on, spit!" It was sudden. It was brief. Before she knew it, she was being pulled by her wrist towards the cacophony, her eyebrow raised. Just what in the world was going on? If this was some kind of prank, it was a rather elaborate one, she would give him that. Stumbling a little, she moved after the man. Not like she really had a choice. Her head was blaring with the impulsivity, with the raw, sheer emotion. She could barely see.

The sea of bodies slowly began to thin out, but by that time, she was thoroughly confused. Where were they? Were they still in the same warehouse? The lighting was a little bit dimmer here. She looked back behind herself and saw the closing door. Oh. So, they were in a new room. Okay. She looked back at Mr. White, her emerald eyes still hard. What was he doing now?

"Okay, champ, here's the idea," he began as they moved down some stairs. The distant yells still rang in the hollow well. "You go down there, rough up the other guy, and I give you twenty." She raised her eyebrow at the sudden exchange. Twenty? Twenty what?

"Twenty what?" she asked, her voice hesitant. The man thrust his free hand into his coat pocket and pulled out a bill. Her eyes grew wide. Air wasn't getting into her system. Her throat contracted as she stared at the mark. Twenty dollars. She could. They could! Imagine what they would be able to get with that! They could buy groceries! They could get what they needed! Mom would be okay. Mom would be fine. Twenty. Twenty dollars.

"And. If you do the job right, you'll be earning more money than you can imagine. Consider this as…a trial run," he said. She couldn't help but notice the sneaky edge as he said that. She shook her head, pushing the suspicion away. He was going to give her twenty dollars. Nothing was more important right now.

"How do I know you won't take back your offer?" Doubt was still seeded.

"Tommy, do I look like a liar to you?"

"Haru--"

"That's what I said!" She rolled her eyes. In all honesty, yes. He did look like a liar. But what else could she do? Either she beat a man up and gained twenty dollars (easy money) or she beat a man up and went home with a nickel. Either way she still went home. There really wasn't any downside that she could see. Her eyes followed the bill as they moved, the green, crisp paper tempting her further. Yeah. She could do this. It wouldn't be so bad. "So, what do you say?" He could still see the hesitance, but he had to get her. Somehow, he had to get her.

"O..okay," she sighed, finally caving to the man. She would do it. There was no way she could pass this opportunity up. They were moving once again, a little bit more hastily now than before. Haruka could see the elated step that the man now possessed, which further progressed her own doubt.

"Wonderful, son! Here's the run down," he started, his voice low with excitement. Everything was coming at her too fast, unfortunately, so the most she really caught was "no rules" and "win." Okay, there were no rules, and something about winning. Yeah. Winning wasn't everything. For being pulled along as she was, Haruka was able to maintain her balance rather well. Sure, her head was fuzzy. And sure, she really was lost in this place, but it would all turn out alright in the end. A wail snapped through her system. Alert, she looked around the dark corridor. She could hear footsteps coming from somewhere in front of her. As far as she could tell, they were frantic and there weren't too many people, but before she could really inquire as to what was going on, she heard an elated roar from above. Okay, this place was just getting weirder and weirder.

"This is the Underbelly, you're sure to see a lot of this place during your stay." The sudden voice made her muscles tense, adrenaline now coursing through her veins. She hadn't been expecting it, and after all the commotion, she was sure something was going to lash out at her. She rolled her eyes at her own stupidity. She was just being a jumpy child. Shaking it off, she looked to her right, her eyes catching the vague outline of doors. Many many doors. Her frown deepened a bit more as their numbers grew, a thought occurring to her. Perhaps she was in what used to be an asylum. The cells sure looked like they could house a crazy person, that or a serial killer. Well. There she went again with the serial killer theory. "You sure are a quiet devil, aren't you?" She hated it when people tried to cover the awkward silence with an even more awkward statement. A grimace pulled at her features.

"I have nothing to say," was her blunt reply. Of course, she could have said a million things, but she was sure that it would either get her killed or thrown out of the place. One of the two, and both resulted in the loss of twenty dollars. For the sake of her family and for the sake of the money, she would keep her mouth shut at least until she had collected and made off into the night.

"Well. When you are finished here, make sure to come find your way back upstairs. I'll be waiting for you there. And remember, there are no rules and in order to win, you must take his white. Here," he was speaking fast again, but at least she could understand him this time. He thrust a white piece of cloth at her, prompting her to take it. She did as such and looked at it inquisitively. "Your white. Remember?" Upon seeing her clueless look he let out a sigh. "Just tie that on your body somewhere and don't let him take it. When he takes it, the fight is over and you've lost. So take his before he takes yours. It's you or him out there, just don't forget that." And with that said, Mr. White grabbed the assumed young man by the shoulders and thrust her forward.

Blinding light hit her face as she tried to gain her bearings. She looked down at the cloth clenched tightly in her fist, her thoughts screaming at her to remember. Making quick work, she wrapped it around her knuckles tightly, the nickel held safely against the cloth and her skin. "Well ain't this a pretty picnic."

"It will be once I've taken that pie away from you, boy!" Something darted close to her face. And it had begun.

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The monotony of the night was starting to get to her. Really. Was anything exciting going to happen? She shook her head, letting a small sigh pass her lips. Four minutes nineteen seconds. Those sapphire eyes drifted down to the sandy pit, her eyebrows creased giving her an air of disinterest. The young woman frowned, her fingers pushing through her hair. Annnnnd. Done. Letting out a small sigh, she hunched forward in her chair, those eyes trained upon the doors. Out stepped a man, his smile large and his muscles larger. It was obvious that he had seen this pit many times prior to this night, for his nose was crooked, scars littered his body from apparent open fractures that had long healed, and there was an air of familiarity. He looked to his right, then to his left, his eyes finally falling upon the opposite door.

She flicked the mic on after clearing her throat, her fingers gently grasping the base of the tool. The spotlight was on and it was time to shine. "Coming out of the black door comes the mighty, the powerful, the champ of the pit, Darren 'Bull' Jones! Look at that display of absolute power, folks. He looks just as good as he fights, rest assured," she could hear the small rise of laughter coming from the crowd, some men looking down at the fighter with a new found respect. She couldn't help but roll her eyes. Of course they were assuming the 'worst' which in his case would be a major 'score!' She let it slide. This was all part of the job.

"He sure does look dominating, doesn't he? All fired up and burning for this fight, which begs the question, where is his opponent? Don't tell me they chickened out?" She saw the grin spread across the hulks face, arrogant, calm, cool. He was confident. A by wouldn't be too bad, that would mean he would still see to fight later that night. Didn't want to get too banged up. However, she couldn't help the unsettling bubble that was beginning to develop in the pit of her stomach. What was going on? She looked down at her spread, the schedule that was supposed to be followed down to the T. But there was no name slotted in next to Darren 'Bull' Jones. It was blank. Her eyebrow creased worriedly. She had to keep talking. Just as she was about ready to open her mouth, the white door opened.

"Oh! There he is, gents!" Her eyes fell upon the new comer as he was thrust out into the middle of the ring. Great. It was that sandy blonde from just a few minutes before. He looked rather lost, she noticed, but he didn't appear to be startled. "Oh look who it is! It's that very same cat I was telling you about! Well isn't he a darling little spit?" she said, her voice bouncing lightly. The crowd laughed again at the small joke as they watched the smaller young man, skepticism radiating through all of them. How could such a puny little thing go up against two hundred and twenty pounds of sheer muscle? This was going to be a massacre. If her mic hadn't been on, she would have let out a distressed groan. What was he thinking?

Without batting another eyelash, a punch was thrown, and her attention was drawn back to the matters at hand. "And it's off, Bull already throwing the first punch, barely missing the young cat by a fraction of a hair, a warning shot no doubt. Circling circling circling each other, neither dares invade the others privacy. It appears as though they're sizing each other up, or down, depending upon which side of the pit you're on," she noticed the un appreciative scowl appear upon the blondes face. Lesson one, don't listen to the announcer. Ever. "There it is! It appears as though Bull has made up his mind, his fist flying straight towards his victim who takes a swift step to the side. That was a close one, but it's not over yet. The cat has taken this chance to bring his knee up into the steel stomach of Bull, who doesn't even bat an eyelash. Another fist, another swift dodge, this could be a long fight." Her eyes passed back and forth between the scramble below, her voice low with a hidden excitement.

"The cat steps behind, crouching low, and WHAT! With a sweeping kick, he's managed to pull Bull down to the ground, face first. The cat is upon his back now, his small hands locking around one of Bull's arms. It's a classic chicken wing, gents, and with that leverage, it could very well be the outcome of the game!" She chided herself in her thoughts. Of course it wouldn't be. There was no way this was even close to being done. "Wrenching that wrist, the cat is working on his white. Does he have it? Wait! Look at that, Bull grabs that ferocious feline by the scruff of his collar and tosses him off like a small rag doll. Look at that body slam into the side of the pit. Marvelous!" It looked like it had hurt. Why had this young man come? "Nursing what seems to be some slight wounds, the young cat looks like his nine lives are up. The Bull is charging, his fist reeled back as he launches it right into the cats face. Ohh. Direct hit! I think I felt my own nose breaking at the sight of that!" The yells and jeers down below her box were ones of excitement. Of course no one had bet on the new comer. Why would they when they knew exactly what Bull was capable of. She looked at the young man, blood pouring out the side of his face where the larger mans rough hands must have gouged him.

"Here comes another blow, right to the stomach, our cat appears to be down for the count." It was almost unbearable. She wanted to scream at him to get up. He was just an innocent young man! He didn't deserve to be thrown into this just to be taken out instantly. It wasn't fair. '_Get up_,' she thought to herself frantically. His white was still his, thank God, but Bull wasn't having any of that. Furiously, he tried to work at the tight knot, but found that his fingers were a bit to large to successfully grasp it. A flicker of movement caught her eye. "Has he done it? Has Bull won? Wait. Why is he stumbling back? His hand is clamped tightly over his nose as if something just…the cat! He's getting up, looking unphased, even in his bloodied state! I think he just planted a palm right into Bull's nose! His opponent looks angry. That cat sure does have a bite, don't he? Enraged, Bull is charging again. He wants this kids' blood. Lunging all he has into this punch, the cat darts quickly to the side, bringing his knee up to pound into that steel stomach, again. When will he learn? But..wait! His elbow has now come down hard onto the back of the Bull's head, the cat taking this chance to push the man over to fall flat on to his back! What a turn of events! The cat is now on top of the other, pummeling his face. Right after left after right after left! I think this cat has it, gents!" She felt a wave of relief wash over her as she watched the scene unfold before her. He was going to be okay. Hopefully he would realize that he shouldn't return, however. She really did. No one deserved to get mixed up with this crowd.

"The white, that cat has Bull's white. Bull is done for the night, gents. This fight is over!" It was just a trial. So she didn't have to say it. But the crowd was waiting for her. Was waiting for those words. "Sorry fella's, but this cat has business to attend to." With a quick finger, she flicked off the mic and let out a long drawn out sigh. Good. Not all was lost, yet. Slowly she stood, her beautiful locks falling down her back as she moved. She ran her fingers through her hair slowly in a way that made her shoulders slump with relaxation. The night was almost over. Then she wouldn't have to worry about anything for a whole week. How luxurious that would be. A sudden rap upon the door made her jump.

He didn't really need to knock, since the motion was immediately followed by the door opening. Really, he didn't even wait for her to speak. What if she had been naked! Well, that was a highly unlikely scenario. "Did you see that?" He spurt out, his voice excited and shaking just a bit. She looked at him and smiled. He was like a small child.

"See what, exactly?" she asked, her voice soft and mannerisms beginning to draw in.

"The way he handled Bull! It was incredible, no?" A glimmer hinted in his eyes as she nodded her head. He had a valid point, the young man was rather talented. A shiver went down her spine at the thought. Talent. There was no way he was going to let him go. Not for a million years.

"Where did you find him?" She asked, her eyes falling heavily upon the window pane just to her right. It was just a topic of discussion, both of them knew it. She was not, in anyway, interested as to where he found him, just what he was planning on doing to him.

"Oh, come on, Michiru!" His voice was pleading, his eyes rolling at her antics. It was always like this. Sometimes she wondered why she even bothered. "Don't rain on my parade! Don't you love me?" He gave her a look, his hands clasped hopelessly in front of him. Goodness, he was such a child. Her muscles were ridged as she moved to cross the distance between them, her arms wrapping around the man's waist. She buried her face into his white suit, her jaw still set tight in disapproval.

He let out a sigh. "Don't try to talk me out of it. I see what I want and what I want is right in front of me. I'm going to take it, Ru, and your opinion on the matter has no effect on the outcome. Stop being a spoiled child and let me have my fun," his voice was suddenly filled with frustration. His arms tightened around her, his fingers biting into her arms. She closed her eyes, small spiders of pain rippling through her muscles. She took a sharp, small breath, her eyes closing at the unpleasant feeling. It would all be forgotten in a few seconds, as it always was. She didn't want to fight. This wasn't what she wanted. Slowly, she nodded her head, knowing his stubborn ways. His hands softened when he felt the motion, his demeanor changing all too rapidly.

"Now! Be a good girl and go do what you do best. They're all waiting, you know," he chuckled, his eyebrows waggling a little as he gently pushed her towards the door. It was that time. She nodded her head, giving the man a blaringly fake smile as she exited the room. He would follow after her shortly. It was routine.

And like everything else, eventually, it would have to stop.

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AN: Okay, I decided I didn't want to be too mean about the whole going away to Fargo for two weeks just after putting up the first chapter. Consider chapter two as a treat. I might have some down time to come up with chapter 3 while I'm away, since my beautiful beautiful laptop is coming with me, but don't have high hopes everyone. The minute I get back, though, I will definitely be working on said chapter. Now. I just have to gush about this. I was watching the English version of Sailor Moon last night and I was DYING. Like, I'm sitting there, watching "Amara and Michelle" interact and do you know how many times they spoke the words "family, cousins, or related" in their lines? It was like thirteen times in one episodes. I laughed so freakin' hard. It's like the English version was trying SO hard to mask the two's real feelings that they made it seem incestuous. It was hilarious.

On a more serious note, I want your feed back for the fight. Did you like Michiru narrating, or would you rather it be in the pov of Haruka? I was stepping out on a limb here when I tried this. Answers would be much appreciated. Anyways, if you have any questions, drop me a review (or you could do that anyways) and I'll be sure to reply in the following chapters author's note.

Which leads me to replies:

**Ami** - Michiru is the announcer. I didn't want to blatantly state it, but from time to time she will be referred to as "Ru" which, I thought, would be a more endearing way to call her.

**T.** - Thanks for the criticism, and as for an answer to your question: The story will sort of have a split feel to it. About seventy percent of the story will be put into Haruka's point of view, while the remaining thirty will be in Michiru's. As the chapters progress, it should come closer together, but since the two still have yet to actually speak, it's just easier to do it this way. I have a method to my madness, so just stick with me. Haha.

**Swinging Cloud** - I know you didn't actually ask a question, but I wanted to say that at first glance your review made me cringe. I thought you were going to YELL at me or something. Haha. But then I realized how stupid I was being, so…yeah. Thanks for the support. And yes, you will be seeing me around. I'm sure someone around here will be beating me to death to update.

Okay, thanks to everyone else to replied, it made me feel so good about myself. Haha. And I hope to see everyone rather soon! I like reviews, just so everyone knows.

Till next time!


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

This was her lucky day, it seemed. Lucky day, indeed.

Before she really realized as to what was going on, she was stepping out of that sandy pit the victor. Energy and adrenaline pumped through her veins, her cheeks a little rosy from the previous scuffle. What had just happened? Well. She had gone in there, she knew that. She remembered hearing his voice. But then what? It all seemed to happen so fast. Had it really happened at all? Her feet unconsciously guided her down that dark corridor for the second time that evening. A cold chill raced down her spine, her head spinning a little at the echoing voices.

She knew that they were coming from the spectator's lounge up above, but it felt as though they were right next to her. Breathing and talking right into her ear. She was just edgy from the fight. That's it. Her muscles tensed as she picked up her pace, eyes darting suspiciously. It all seemed rather strange. This entire encounter. But she was twenty dollars and five cents richer. That's all that mattered.

A bit of pain poked at her nose. It was bleeding, but not too terribly. He had cracked her a good one, surely, but it definitely hadn't broken her nose. That announcer was misinformed. The young blonde shook her head, those bloodied fists tightened into balls. What was she supposed to do again? Oh yeah. Mr. White wanted to see her. She wanted that cash. It was hers. She had rightfully won it. She'd be damned if he two timed her. Swiftly, Haruka's long legs pulled her up the stairs, the nights activities beginning to take a hold upon her. She felt herself becoming a little bit more lethargic. Tired. Foggy. Maybe she had hit her head harder than she initially thought. She grunted to herself. No, she was fine.

Without her realizing it, the door that she had gone into minutes before was before her, swinging wide open for those toxic fumes to invade her senses. The air was cloudy with the smoke, but tainted with the smell of stale whiskey. Her nose wrinkled a little as she looked at the sea of bodies. The ebb and tide of arms and legs were dizzying. Excited mumbles sought her ears. What was that? Something about…uh. Hm. She furrowed her bloodied brow in confusion. It was all a blur. All melted together. She couldn't quite pick out what they were talking about. What was the point of being so excited. Heh. They all had their homes to go to. Their wives. Families. A warm fire. A bed. A real home. Something bitter raised in her throat at the thought. Of course they would be excited. To watch desperate men battle it out just for something they all seemed to just have. Her anger was sparking again. These working men should know better. They should. They knew who she was, yet they didn't say a word. Maybe they were all too drunk off their ass to realize it. More anger.

A hush suddenly fell, the room seeming to get a bit dimmer. Her head followed the suggestion of the crowd. A cough. Absolute silence. Her leg twitched as she made to move forward, but stopped dead in her tracks when it sliced through the very fabric of the atmosphere. That one, long, sad note. The beginning of what would be an equally sad and tragic end. The fine hairs on the back of her neck rose. The small, diminutive note hung in the air like a heavy silence. Lonely, solitary. A chord. At least now it had friends. If she would have been in a more hardy state of mind, she would have had the audacity to say that they could all throw a pity party together. But she wasn't. And she couldn't say it about that noise. That smooth, crystalline noise. What was it? It was picking up with intensity, just the slightest. A tease. That's what it was. She wanted to move to find the source, but she was afraid to break the spell that had fallen over everyone. It was felt in everyone present. Those notes. They spoke to her. Spoke to all that were present. Her jaw clenched a little as she finally moved forward into the crowd, facing the direction in which everyone else was pointed.

It hit her full on. Those rushed, almost panicked notes, now. Like tear drops on the strings from which they came. How depressing. Why was this in such a place? A place meant for good times? A place where people could forget their woes and sorrows and just laugh and be merry? _'Because it's reality, and people must be reminded of that cold truth that lies beyond these steel doors.'_ And it was beautiful. It was like the breath that they all shared. The blood that they all had spilt in these hard times. It was the flame that reminded them of the cold outside.

But she was so…pretty. Finally she had taken sight of her. Barely through the many heads of the deathly quiet men. Blue locks. Delicate features. Everything about her screamed class. Screamed the ultimate woman. Her curves were easy to follow with the eye, and that white dress seemed to hang off of her body like a garment fit for a Queen. She wanted to touch it. The moment she realized that, she tore her eyes away, reluctantly. Fabric was always so fun to feel. That's what she was talking about. Not the girl. Nah. Not her. She was too classy. She was probably a snob too. A lump rose uncomfortably in her throat, her hands balling up into fists unconsciously. Slowly, she dared to look up again.

The girls demeanor was just as sad as the instrument that she manipulated beneath those delicate hands. Gets her point across better. To feel that which is being displayed. But Haruka knew that they were all feeling it as well. She was an excellent musician, she would give the young woman that. It was a hard thing to make the people feel that which the song says. The blonde held her breath as she listened to that bow hit the strings. Her eyes slowly closed, and for once, she felt as though she was at peace. There wasn't anything to worry about. It was just her and the music. It was beginning to envelope her. Something slammed in her chest. Heavily. Hard. Her muscles shook a little. God, she was pretty.

But still probably a snob.

She nodded her head a little as she dared to rub some of the blood away from her face. She didn't really want it to dry all over her skin. It was going to make her mother worry. Mother? Worrying? What else was new. Something clapped heavily around her wrist as she began to get lost in her thoughts. As a result, her eyes darted open, her muscles tensing for a fight. But it was just him. That roguish smile piercing her retinas. A white suit. He motioned quickly with his head, his voice not reaching her ears. She supposed that he didn't want to break the spell that had been cast. She nodded her head, beginning to follow the older man. And it was the first time she regretted not being able to stay there and listen. Don't tear away. Her senses screamed for her to wait for the closing of the melody. But she knew that she could not. Whatever. It's just…music. Her eyes fell upon that girl one last time before she was pulled up some stairs and into a new room. The line of sight was shattered. The music was muffled when the door closed. And Mr. White made his way to sit behind a large, wooden desk.

He clasped his hands in front of his face as he looked at the young woman, his smile never leaving his face. "Sit sit," he said, motioning to one of the many lush chairs that were tastefully scattered through out the decently sized office. A smoky window was to his back, which she assumed looked out over the pit that she had just come from. Papers and pens were neatly stacked and placed in holders upon his rich looking desk. It seemed very formal and very business like here. Her features grew grave as she looked at him. He was scheming something.

"I'd prefer to stand," she replied curtly, her hands still balled into fists, but this time in defense. She didn't trust him. Not one bit.

"Suit yourself," he said with a small shrug, his smile never fading.

"If you don't mind, I'd like to receive that which was promised me. I've completed your silly, trifle task. So now it's your turn, _sir_." The honorfication held a small, snide edge to it as she said it. She really needed to work on her people skills. Yeah. She would get right on that. Maybe when pigs flew. She'd think about it.

"You did quite a number on Bull there, young cat," he chuckled. She rolled her eyes at the quickly growing nick name. What was that announcers problem. Did she really seem all that cuddly? Cat. "That was so amazing the way you handled him. It was as if you didn't seem to see anything around you. You just MOVED!" He was excited. It was as if he was a child talking about a new toy. What she didn't know was that she was exactly just that. A new toy.

Had he even heard her?

"Yes, well, it's been wonderful chatting with you bu--"

"And the way you came back! It was thrilling!" He was cutting her off. Agitation grew in her throat as she impatiently looked at him. She really needed that bill. Had he been just playing her? She would surely show him if he had. He smiled at her. She knew that he could feel the anger that was sparking in her emerald eyes. He knew what he was doing. Was he testing her? He looked at her with a calm, even stare. She wanted to punch him. So. Bad. It would be totally worth it. No. It wouldn't be. The money. If she did that, she wouldn't get the money. Damn. She was eating out of the palms of his hands, basically.

"Work for me."

She blinked rapidly, caught by surprise. Haruka was aware that he had offered her sort of a job in the alley way, but now, he was pulling out papers and a pen. He was serious.

"Be my Champ." He looked hopeful at her.

Hesitantly, she looked back, her voice cautious. "I'm the property of no one."

"Come on! It's just once a week. And you'll get double than what I'm giving you for this one little fight," he said. Double? Forty dollars for one fight? Something caught in her throat as she looked at him. She was no ones pet. But. Her fists tightened, her thoughts rushing all around in her head. What was she supposed to do? He saw the conflict in her eyes, his smile widening.

"You drive a hard bargain, son. Tell ya what, fifty dollars per fight, with free room and board if you ever decide that you need it. All medical expenses will be covered by my company, so even if you do happen to get injured during a fight, it won't be an issue," something was underlying in his voice as he recited the last little bit. Something sneaky. Something smug. She didn't trust it.

"All medical expenses?" She asked. How could she pass that up?

"You're correct, my boy. All. Medical expenses. Including those of close relation," he knew he had struck a chord with her. Those emerald eyes grew cold as the stone that they seemed to be cut from. Her shoulders tightened up. She got into that stance. He would admit that the 'young cat' in front of him made him nervous. He seemed like a lose cannon. But there was no way that Mr. White was going to let the scrapper go.

Those next few seconds seemed to take years to pass by. But she had to do it. It was easy money. Free. Easy. Money. Haruka approached the desk and looked down at the paper that was now being pushed towards her. Hook. Line. And sinker. Slowly, she picked up the pen, her eyes grazing over the words that were printed neatly upon the white sheet.

"You give me your w--"

"Yes! I give you my word. You won't regret it, I promise." She wished that she had known. But that's the sad thing about living in the present. And her mom would be okay. Her dad would be okay. They would have a semi normal life, once more. Finally. It's all she wanted for them. To be happy and to live in that homey little abode once more. That's what drove her to set the tip down to the line. That's what drove her to let her illegible signature scrawl across the page. That's what allowed her to become someone elses' lap dog.

"As I said before! Welcome to the family, Alan!" He stood up and grabbed her hand, shaking it vigorously, clapping her on the shoulder with his other. He was thrilled. She could tell.

"Haru--"

"That's what I said!"

The music still played. But soon after quickly died. The silence that followed the last, drowned note was uncomfortable. Sullen. Weak. And dreadful. Then the hoots, hollers, calls, wails, and applause shook the ground on which she stood. But she couldn't help but feel the heaviness that was lying in her throat.

She was twenty dollars and five cents richer. The bill was slipped into her hand as they shook. Her jaw was ridged. And she pocketed that precious bill.

"Charles will take you to your…_home_ when you're ready to leave. And he'll pick you up next week on the corner of Miller's Market at 5 pm. Till then, son." He motioned towards the door, smiling.

She was twenty dollars and five cents richer. Yet she felt as thought she had just been robbed.

--------

All eyes were on her. She knew it.

Some of them greedy. Some of them lustful. Some of them sad. Some of them angry. Some of them happy. Some of them defeated.

It didn't matter, they were all still there. All poised and looking at her, watching her every move expectantly. She wouldn't make a mistake. They would not be disappointed. Not that night. Not ever. She knew that. The only time they would regret her, was the time when she drew to a close. A small sigh passed through those lips, her eyes softly closed as she played, her fingers gracing over the strings like the practiced musician she was. It felt like home when she played. Her heart fluttered softly as she moved into a particular line. It was a wonderful thing. To be completely alone and isolated, but to feel content with the situation. Was she content? Her jaw twitched a little unexpectedly. She almost lost it. But she saved the mistake from falling. That wouldn't happen. Not tonight.

Her movements began to slow as she began to come to a close, her bow falling still over the four strings in one final note. It hung in the air. On the curtains that surrounded the stage that she was poised. On the clothes of the men that listened. On the edge of her throat that wanted to softly hum that which was just played. It seemed like eternity before they started in clapping and cheering. They loved her.

They always had.

It was such an odd feeling. She played so often for people. For so many different audiences. But they loved her the best. They were always so happy to see her walk out in some random part of the establishment and just begin. Always a new song. Never the same one. It was always a surprise. She was sure, however, that they would be just as satisfied even if she _did_ happen to play the same thing every week. That's true devotion.

She let the beautiful dark violin drop from her shoulder as she bowed. It was old. Well worn. Loved. It was part of her. Just as much as this place was. How she hated it. The monotony. A polite smile graced her lips as she began to move off of the stage, the applause still reaching her ears. It had been a good night. Everyone went home happy. Well. Except…some. She shook her head, those wavy locks dancing lightly around her face as she discarded the thought from her head. Everything was normal. This was all normal. Nothing was out of the norm. Well. Except…

No.

Those sapphire eyes graced the eager faces of the crowd one last time, but movement behind them all caught her attention. It was that young man. That sandy blonde young cat. He was descending the stairs that lead to. Oh. Great. Her heart skipped a beat at the thought. As usual, he had gotten what he had wanted. She took a deep breath in her mind, because a lady isn't supposed to sigh. It's bad manners. That smile remained fixed upon her lips as she finally moved off stage.

"Great job, as usual, Ru!" She looked up to see a bright, happy face. They all looked the same. The same rosy cheeks. The same glimmer of the eye. Who was who in the world here?

"Thank you, Stella. I appreciate your support and sound words," she replied, her voice soft. Delicate as a flower. She placed her instrument into the hard case that was laid out on a small table just in front of her. Gently, the young woman clasped it closed. Without another word said, she picked it up and moved off stage. Everyone was watching her. They always were. Even in the confines of her own room. They were always watching.

As she moved out of the safety of backstage, she felt something hit her stomach. A nauseating feeling really. The heavy metal door swung open easily enough, the cool night air hitting her face with a refreshing slap. It felt great to be out of that cage. Even for a few seconds. It was invigorating. Brought her to a new high. A new life was out here. A different life was out here. She wasn't what she was in there. The door clicked closed behind her. She let her shoulders hit the damp alley wall. Michiru's eyes closed, exhaustion taking over her.

"Hello?"

The sudden voice made her jump. She clutched the violin case tightly to her chest, her eyes flying open as she looked at the owner. The moonlight danced lightly in that alley way, the light from the stars blocked out by the building parallel to the one she had just exited. Most of it was in shadow. Her eyes met with those ones. Those hard. Emerald. Eyes.

"You're not Charles," that husky, dark, smoky, beautiful voice said.

Michiru chuckled politely at the apparent confusion. He was cute. Yeah. That's the word. Cute. Innocent. Adorable. What a shame. Something flashed beneath her iris as she began to move past the young man, shaking her head.

"You're right, I'm not. Turn around and take the first left. That's where he should be," her step quickened with her heart rate. She wanted to be out of his presence. She didn't want to see his bloodied face. A small flush threatened to creep along her neck, but she commanded her body to not do silly things. She wanted to tell him to run before he was caught. She wanted to push him back. To tell him that he needed to get out. But she couldn't. She was bound. Gagged. And defeated.

"Good night," she said, her voice soft and quiet as the wind as she quickly darted back inside the building. Their eyes met for a brief second, her smile never leaving her lips. She regretted that one. She should never look. Ever.

No more. She would speak to him no more.

That heavy steel door closed behind her, once again. She looked at the deserted part that she now inhabited, her heart racing, her blood coursing. Every nerve in her body had been shot. And she stood there, clutching her case tightly in the palm of her hand. Slowly, she swallowed. Always hated looking into the eyes of a fighter. It was unnerving. Her stomach turned gently, yet uncomfortably as she willed herself to move forward. They all would have left by now.

And she was comforted by the fact that she was right. Stealthily, she moved back to her announcers box, without so much as a 'Hello!' or a 'Good job!' In an isolated box, one could just let everything go. Being alone. It was the best cure for anything. That's what she had to keep telling herself. After all, she wasn't really alone. She had everyone here. She sat down into her chair, her posture ridged as a starched shirt.

Wasn't this the life?

Yeah. Sure.

She looked down at the sheet in front of her and flicked on the microphone for the billionth time. And she spoke. This was her.

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AN: Annnnnd. I'm back from North Dakota. And here I am, as promised, a bright, shiny, new chapter. It's not really my best, but it's some stuff that really really had to happen. So be patient with me. I have a feeling that this fic will be that way sometimes. I have to set some things up, you know. I don't know if I actually really liked this particular chapter. It took me a while to get into it and I'm sure one of my reviewers can tell you that I procrastinated the hell out of writing this. But as promised, I delivered. Holy crap. x_x It's 1 am. Well! So long as it's out there before I get skinned alive! Sorry it's a little shorter than my previous chapters, but I really wanted to get this out there for you all to read. Originally, this chapter and chapter 2 were supposed to be one chapter, but I didn't really want to give you guys like this HUGE wall of text to read, so I decided to split it up. I think it worked pretty well. So. Yeah. Thanks for being patient with me, and thanks for all the kind reviews. Which means onwards to replies:

**Lostinhersong **- Well. They sort of have met now. Haha. But be patient. I promise that I'll deliver something more satisfying soon enough.

**Swinging Cloud** - And here you are. Now you can rejoice and no one will die today because I didn't update. Hahaha. I didn't realize that when I said that someone would beat me to death about updating that it would be you. How ironic is that? Haha. I don't mind though, keep doing it. Anyways. Yeah.

**Ami** - You'll find out in a later chapter. I can't reveal that secret yet!

**T.** - You're the only one who asked the right question. Who is Mr. White. But that is something that I can't divulge quite yet. Once again, it'll all be explained. And once again, thank you for the criticism. It's much appreciated.

**Tripower** - Wow. I once tried to get a German girl to read my writing and she was so lost. I'm impressed with your English. ^^ I dually thank you for your review and criticism.

**Petiyaka** - Buaha. 'Nuff said. [/heart]

Thank you for all that reviewed. I really appreciate the support. I heart you guys. You make me happy. So, I'm glad that you all like it so far.

Once again, if you have any questions, drop me a review and I'll be sure to reply to it in the next chapter. Or you could drop me a review anyways. I really like reviews. They make me happy.


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4

There was nothing left to be said. Nothing left to be had. That man had dismissed her with the wave of his hand, and now his attention was focused upon a paper that was laid out before him. Asshole. A scowl pulled at the corners of her lips as she moved to leave. He wasn't going to talk to her. Hell. He wasn't even looking at her. Haruka scoffed outwardly, shoving the twenty dollar bill deep into her pants pocket.

What a rats nest.

With her shoulders back, her chin high, and her demeanor proud, the young blonde took her leave, those long legs guiding her down the steps. They were all still calling. Yelling. "I love you!" Or, "Have my babies!" or most commonly, "Marry me!" All they were interested in was her body. What about the music? Her personality? Her snobby. Strict. Tight. Personality? Was looks the only thing that mattered to these people? Those green eyes fell upon one of the dancers, her breasts popping from the bodice, her skirt shorter than necessary. How demeaning. The way she hung herself off the drunkard with the rich suit. The way she pressed her chest against his arm and asked him if he could 'show' her. Show her what, Haruka really didn't care to know.

How could men allow themselves to fall so far? It was a question that had been plaguing her for years. There would never be a set answer, unfortunately.

There was nothing left for her here. She had gotten what she came for. She couldn't afford a drink. She couldn't afford a gamble. She couldn't afford anything. With her hands in her pockets, the young woman made her way through the rapidly dispersing crowd. The main attraction (and she would say again that she was mighty attractive) was no where to be seen. What was the point of standing around the stage like a bunch of love struck imbeciles. Really. What was the point in staying in the company of the daft? She needed to be home.

With a sense of new found urgency, the young woman made her way outside, the cool night air soothing the small throb in her nose. Maybe she should clean up before her mother saw her. Chiding herself, she shook her head. Nah. What was the point in lying? It never got anyone anywhere. Just seemed to make a mess out of things. The door closed slowly behind her standing form, her body cutting a shadow in the light. Now that she thought about it…where was Charles supposed to be? Well. Good job. She should have thought of that before she left. She rolled her eyes at herself.

Something moved. A dark shadow. Slender. Quiet. Her muscles tightened a little as she turned to face the persona. But nothing was there. Her scowl deepened as she moved towards it. She was sure it was there. Perhaps it was Charles. Or maybe it was someone trying to play a nasty trick on her. She wouldn't doubt that. Then again, she wouldn't really doubt anything in regards to the Slaughts. Haruka was sure that it would live up to anything. Nothing would surprise her. She wouldn't let it.

"Hello?" Cautiously she continued to move forward, the moonlight dancing eerily off of the alley beneath her feet. Silence met her straining ears. So she moved closer. With her eyes adjusting to the dim light, her eyebrows rose a little in shock and confusion. So she blurted out the first thing that came to her mind, "You're not Charles."

A chuckle. Was it real? Or was it fake? She raised an eyebrow. Right. Stupid. It was the violinist. Maybe she was out here for a smoke break? What? Wasn't like she had to use her lungs to produce beautiful music. All she had to do was wave her wrist around and put her fingers in the right place. In fact, Haruka was almost certain that the young woman, because of her long and potent addiction to tobacco, had a wretched, gnarled and raspy voice. No girl was perfect. If they had a pretty face, their voice was either one of two things. Unbearably irritating or completely brain dead.

"You're right, I'm not." Wait. What? A small shiver raced down her spine. Her tongue was stayed. God damnit. She really had to stop making up those ludicrous stories. Her voice was like silk, smooth against her skin. Cream against her tongue. It was gentle, soft, warm. But it held the faintest edge of sadness. It was not something uncommon in these times. No, it was deeper than that. Her voice was like that violin. Crying. Yet, it was so beautiful, that you couldn't stop listening to it.

Oh God damnit.

That meant that it was the later of the two. A completely brain dead bitch. Haruka wasn't so sure, though. She'd never seen such an elegant looking 'bitch.' She seemed polite enough, but maybe it was just a façade. Probably.

"Turn around and take the first left. That's where he should be." Who should be? She almost asked the dumb question. A disgruntled look fell upon her face at the realization. The girl was quickly moving past her, her sapphire eyes flicking up for just a few seconds to lock with her own. But she looked away rather quickly and muttered her farewell even more so. Ah. She wasn't comfortable in her presence. Haruka got it. She knew what was going on. So she was a snob, after all. For a moment, she thought otherwise. Maybe she should stick to her crazy stories. It was far more entertaining that way.

As usual, too quick to judge.

Without another thought, the young woman turned on her heel and followed the directions that had been given to her. She wouldn't say a word to Charles. Or to any other that followed.

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The dark night churned the sky, the cry of owls breaking the silence that pervaded the darkness. Something cool dripped down from the damp canopy, the wind slicing through the light fabric as if it were non existent. The small flame flickered and danced, death waiting to take the hot embers, to quench the burning thirst that the orange flames held. The earthen floor was littered with pebbles and scraps of years past newspapers and magazine clippings, perhaps to keep something warm. The shelter was small, maybe ten feet wide and ten feet long. The wood was rotting, mites and little critters darting in and out of the hazardous pockets, chewing and gnawing. Mice scuttled along the ground quickly. At least they knew not to stay. The air was damp. Cool. There were no chairs. No beds. No table. There was nothing. Save one, sole blanket. Something laid curled up beneath it. Perhaps it was a dead dog. A person? Garbage.

The fire light cast the room in an unnerving shadow. The spiders leapt and danced. The hiss of the flames crackling in ears. And there, a man sat, his back against a wall. Weathered. Worn. Lost. He looked to the dirty newspapers beneath him, his face cast in those same shadows. He looked feeble. Old. Tired. No amount of heat could extinguish the chill that had taken over. There was nothing for him. There was nothing for her. But they had to keep on living. He shifted in the night, his mind wandering for the thousandth time that evening. Where was she?

A cough broke the silence, his muscles jolting a little as he looked towards the blankets. His face drew down into a soft frown as he put his hand in his tattered coat pocket. At least it provided some warmth. Damn these autumn nights.

"Ken?" The voice was broken. Shaken with the rot. The man struggled to his feet, pain lacing in his tired forest eyes. He dragged himself closer to the blanket, his hand still securely in his coat pocket.

"I'm here," he said. What came to his ears was not a sound that he was proud of. Years before, it would have been a sound of comfort, warmth, strong stability. But now, it was nothing. Just as he was nothing. Just as they were nothing.

"Have you seen--"

The crunch of gravel outside of the rickety little abode cut the voice off. A car door opened, a person stepped out. The headlights pierced through the darkness like a saber. It burned his retinas. What was going on? A voice spoke softly outside, but there came no reply. What was said? No one could really say for sure. The man tensed as he waited, a figure making the darkness feel even darker. Something shouldered through the curtain. And immediately, the man frowned.

She stood, her face broken, blood caked against her pale skin. A bruise had begun to make its appearance just below her right eye. Her lip was a bit swollen, and her cheeks were still flushed. Exhaustion was lit in her dull green eyes, her breath regulated as she moved the rest of the way in. Something was bottled, though. A flash happened to break through the fatigue. Something had happened.

"Haruka, where have you been?" He didn't mean to sound so mean. It just happened to fall out that way.

She shrugged her shoulders nonchalantly, her exterior cool and collected. Figures. "Around." She was going to avoid the question at all possible costs, just short of lying. Hey, she didn't say that she was going to tell them _everything_.

"Come clean, girl, before my belt finds your face!" He was serious.

"Don't be so senile, old man. You can't even lift yourself from the ground, let alone reach up and peck me upon the cheek," she smiled. There was no blood between her teeth. Her smile was dazzling and enchanting as ever. She wasn't afraid. Without saying anything else, she crossed the small distance and knelt below the older man. Her arms wrapped around his glass form, providing him a sound and reassuring hug.

"We've been worried sick!" He was obviously irritated.

"Well, you should be! Look at this mess! What if someone important were to visit?" She was teasing.

"Haruka." He wasn't going to have any of it.

"I said, don't worry. When I say don't worry, then don't worry. I'm here. I'm fine. I'm safe. I'm mostly unharmed. And I have a surprise." A wolfish smile spread across her handsome features as she thrust her hand into her pocket. Boy, would they be excited. And next week, she could really do something. Make a bigger dent in the situation.

"When my daughter comes home in the dead of night, blood covering her face, and accompanied by an _automobile_, I will worry! What _happened_ to you?" He watched her closely for a few seconds before he saw her bloodied knuckle slip out of her pocket. Something green caught his eye. "HARUKA, YOU DIDN'T!" Anger flared in his eyes. For a second there, she was almost confused. But she knew that he would jump to this.

"Wait, listen to me befo--"

"_This family does not steal, Haruka! We are honest people that live day to day and take what He brings. If you're weak enough to resort to that, then you are no daughter of mine, do you hear? We brought you up better than this, young lady! If you wish to remain a part of this family, you will go back to where ever you took that from and give it back! And I don't want to hear another word about it!_" The words were pouring from his lips so fast, that it almost made her dizzy. At the conclusion of his small speech, she let a loud laugh call from her lips, her hand placed heavily upon her fathers shoulder.

"If you would let me finish before you started in, then I would have told you that I have found work. Easy work. Call it a regular job, if you will." He looked at her flabbergasted. There was work to be had? Maybe she could get him a job too! Before he could ask, though, she opened her palm to reveal the twenty dollar bill. They would be able to eat.

"Haruka! What?

Wait.

There.

Work?

It's not the illegal kind, is it? Are you joshing me?" He was jumping subjects quickly. Twenty dollars. That was a lot of money.

"No. A real job--"

"Where?"

"I…" What was she supposed to say? She couldn't tell him about that place. It was a secret best left in the closet. "Oh, we'll just say I saw one of your old customers and he offered me something." A lie. She was sure she would regret that one later. Well. Maybe he had come into the bar once or twice. For some reason, Haruka didn't really think that their little business would have been Mr. White's sort of place. Her nose wrinkled a little at the thought. He was a pompous know it all. Nothing mattered except for number one. Himself. She was sure that he only had his own interests in mind. She just couldn't figure out what he wanted with her. Yet.

His face fell. Those lips parted to start schooling her again, but she beat him to the punch before he had a chance. "Listen, it doesn't matter. What matters, right now, is that we have enough money. I know there's only enough for a few more days. I know that things aren't going as well as you pretend they are. I know these things, old man. But I also know that things are starting to look up. Look!" She pushed the bill towards him again, her eyes light with a boyish excitement. "Things are starting to turn. Everything will be okay. We can afford what we need, now. Don't question the source. And for chrissake don't be such a god damn pest." She hugged the older man again.

For the first time in a year, he felt something warm bubble in the pit of his stomach. Hope. The candle had been lit. It only took one instance to snuff it out. But, by hell, it had better bring a hurricane, because he was sure that they wouldn't go down without a fight.

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It had been days since their meeting. Since that dark alley. Yet Michiru continually found her mind wandering. Where ever she was, in her room, during a lesson, eating, drawing, painting, it would always come back down to those eyes. Those desperate, edgy green eyes. And every time, the memory left a cool taste in the back of her throat. Sent a chill right down her spine. There was no need for it. Sure, she didn't get to see them all that much, but it wasn't like they were the first to ever really look into. There was something different about that young man. Her eyebrow quirked a little. How unladylike. She chided herself.

"..oh.."

She shifted a little in the cushioned seat in which she sat, her legs crossed neatly at the ankle beneath her slender waist. Her hands laid delicately in her lap, her blue dress dark against her pale skin. For an autumn day, it sure was nice outside. It wasn't too cold, and there wasn't a single cloud to be seen against the blue sky. How lonely. She felt something twist in her chest. A small frown threatened to pull at the corner of her lips. However, she was so used to keeping that smile firmly in place, she caught herself without realizing.

"..Kaioh.."

The words were a faint buzz in her ears, her eyes fixed pointedly straight forward. There sat a man in his mid to late thirties, his face beading with sweat. Why was he so warm? How odd. Well. Maybe not. He was grossly large (in her opinion) with an almost nonexistent neck. His tie, she imagined, was probably cutting the circulation off to his brain. How brilliant. Maybe he would fall over and die. Now wouldn't that be interesting. Death by neck tie. She really wanted to laugh. It stayed in her throat. He had beady eyes that stared at her, and when he spoke, his second chin was so mesmerizing, it was near impossible to look away from it. That's what really had her so enthralled.

"Ms. Kaioh!" His voice was every bit of fat as his body was. But it finally had broken the spell his physique had cast upon her. With a small nod of her head, she was pulled back to the present. What was going on? Right. Business meeting. Apparently, he was in possession of some valuable assets that the company would find helpful. She had been meeting and negotiating with him constantly for years. He was a family friend. But. God. He was just so…

Greasy?

Slimy?

Morbidly obese?

Any of those terms would have been accurate, if not all of them. And then some. These weekly negotiations and business luncheons were really beginning to drag her down. She hated attending them. She hated the way those beetle eyes roved over her. She hated the way he drooled. She hated the way that she felt afterwards. It would be just like any other time. Her hands clenched a little beneath the table as she flashed him another pleasant smile.

"Pardon me, Mr. O'Neil. All of the long nights seem to be getting the best of me. Please, do continue," she said. Her voice was light and encouraging. But she really wasn't listening. She didn't care. At all.

Every week, it was the same thing. They would have lunch at Gaffigan's. A small café with an outdoor patio. It was road side, and generally, they would sit outside if it was nice, but inside should it rain. After the first two months, there were no longer body guards with her. What was the point? There was a person waiting to take her back to the company. But there was no one really other than the two business people and the everyday customer. This day was like every other. They sat outside on the patio, talked about the future and what should be done. She would watch the people come in and out of the hospital, or listen to other more interesting conversations that were beside her, yet she always managed to make him think that she cared. Ha. What a joke.

"What do you think?" Something brushed against her thigh. Her jaw clamped tightly at the sensation, her eyes quickly darting down to look at her assailant. It was merely her own napkin dropping from her lap. Her heart raced. Silly girl. Gracefully, she bent down and picked it up. Maybe he wasn't going to.

"I think that it would be in the best interest of both companies to wait." Her eyes lit with a double meaning. He brought a fat finger to his lip, then shook his head. He wasn't so sure. Something twisted in her stomach. Negotiations weren't going as planned today. She knew this. But she couldn't. Her throat became a little dry as she dabbed her napkin to her lips, then placed it down upon the table neatly.

"Perhaps we should part for the afternoon," she suggested. God, she really hoped that he would just leave. He was so creepy. Something brushed against her leg.

"But we aren't done, Ms. Kaioh," his words chilled her to the bone. That knot began to develop in her stomach again. Careful, now. She had to be careful around him. What was she supposed to say to the head of the company? She wanted body guards? Why? This man posed no threat. Yet…every time this always seemed to happen. Michiru was sick of it. But she was, once again, still tied. She cleared her throat, hiding a nervous yelp that issued when she felt something crawl along her calf. This time, she was well aware that it was not her napkin.

"I was under the impression that we had sorted through everything that which needed sorting, Mr. O'Neil." Her heart began to race the further it progressed. She wanted to get up and walk out, but she knew that it would be the downfall of the company. Perhaps if she just touched lightly upon the subject…No. That wouldn't work either. It wasn't her place.

"Not quite." Nope. She couldn't do it.

"I believe we're through here, sir. I'll take my leave and bid you good health until next week." She didn't want to even think about his snaky little fingers touching her skin. But he was. He certainly was. For the past few weeks he had been thinking about it. Testing it. And each time, she had managed to get out of the dangerous situation before it had even started to rise. But he had been making progress. And today, she feared, he would gather enough courage to just. Well. The only reason why he was here helping the company that she represented was because he had an interest in her. It was bad for his own business to be helping them. To be providing assets. What did they really gain in return? Power? Money? Protection? Perhaps. She didn't like to go into the nitty gritty details. It was unbecoming.

He grunted a little as he stood, his eyes bearing down heavily at the blue haired violinist. Michiru smiled politely, as if she didn't notice. A lady right until the end. Nodding her head, she also stood. A gentleman should always stand when a lady leaves. Good. He was going to let her go. This wasn't his lucky day. But it certainly was hers. Turning to leave, she felt something encircle her wrist. Suddenly. Forcefully. Her eyes shot open as she was whirled around, the shorter, stubbier man stronger than he initially appeared. His jowls shook with anger as he spoke.

"You'll find my health to be superb, Ms. Kaioh. Would you be so kind as to help me with something, though? I think a key element is…lacking in my proposal." Okay. So she had been wrong many times before. This just happened to be one of them. Her stomach lurched again, her smile faltering for a quick second before she tried his grasp. Vice like. Great. This was going to get messy. She couldn't very well punch him. Her veins crawled, her breath becoming quickened. She shook her head to try and rid herself of these thoughts.

He saw it. Read it. Interpreted it. He was going to have what he wanted. His jaw clenched tightly, his hand wrenching her towards him. She let out a small cry, her slender body slamming heavily against his own. He liked that. Her eyebrows screwed up as she felt her wrist being twisted. There was no one. It was a quiet afternoon. And there was no one. She let out a small whimper, her teeth clamping down onto her lower lip.

"Mr. O'Neil. If you do not unhand me this instant, there will be severe consequences that will, in accordance, be thrown into effect. Please, if you leave me be, I will forget about this little misunderstanding and speak of it to no one," she was trying to compromise her way out of the situation. Oh, Michiru, you silly silly girl. Her voice was not very threatening, but the tone was, one could say, rather dark. His devotions wavered for a split second before they hardened again. He would have her. This was his. He had been watching her for months. Years. This is what he deserved. The way she said his name. The way that she bit her lip in indecision. She wanted him to take it. That's what they liked. Women were so complicated. It was a good thing he got it.

He pulled her wrist harder, yanking it around her back and up, his nose brushing along her neck. She was just faking it.

"Please, unhand me, I'm warning you," her voice quaked a little. He was lost in his resolve. Maybe it wouldn't be so bad. Just don't struggle. She did, after all, wish to live to see tomorrow.

"Sir, I believe the young lady asked you to take your hands off." The voice cut through the tension. She wanted to turn her face and look, but she couldn't. It was probably the waiter. The request seemed about right. But the voice…it was just a little off. Not what she really remembered, anyways. Her eyes closed.

"Go away, son. Someday, you'll understand what a woman wants," was his gruff reply. He gave another sharp twist to Michiru's wrist. She let out another cry, her eyes screwed shut.

"Let me say it again, in case your fat was blocking your ears. Get your greasy paws off," the voice was threatening, gruff, and angry. She bit down harder upon her lip. He didn't even dignify that with a reply. He moved them both forward and she stumbled, her knees buckling. Caught unawares, she was.

A sickening snap. A cry of absolute pain echoed through the empty café, those stubby fingers releasing her from their cruel grasp. Her skin seemed to burn where he had touched her. She felt sick. Slimy. Dirty. And most of all, she tasted a metallic, warm substance race down her throat. She had bitten her lip too hard, it appeared.

"Go find yourself a dog next time, you pig headed sewer rat." Michiru stayed where she was upon the ground, her hand held close to her chest. She didn't dare open her eyes. Just hearing the thud and the groan was satisfying enough for her. At least the situation had been dealt with.

"Are you okay?" her savior asked, voice smoky. Slowly, she turned to look at him, her eyes widening with shock. It was an awkward moment. Both, she was sure, felt the same emotion. Confusion. But quickly, it was washed away when the young man pulled her to her feet, setting her upright.

"Y-yes, I'm fine," she replied, her voice shaking. It was obvious that she was not. Her eyes drifted to the crumpled form of Mr. O'Neil, his hands clutching between his legs. Just desserts.

"Okay." Was the swift reply. Seeming satisfied with the answer, the blonde turned and began to walk away, a white bag held protectively in his chest. Michiru looked after him, her eyebrows creased with confusion. So. He was just going to leave her there?

"Wait!" She called out behind him as she moved forward. That same unnerved feeling roused in her chest. He was so…different. She couldn't place it. Moving after him in an attempt to catch him, the young violinist grabbed his wrist. He stopped and looked at her, those emerald eyes guarded.

"What." Gruff. Short. Clipped. It was as if he hated her. He didn't even know her.

"I would like to extend my thanks," she replied, her voice wavering in the slightest. He was so brash.

"Well don't." He shook his hand from her grasp, her skin sparking a little. She had almost been…what…? What had she done? Had she offended him somehow? A frown threatened to light, her eyebrow creasing gently.

"But you just--"

"I don't need any thanks, least of all from someone like you." Someone like her? She blinked again. Okay, so he had a pretty face. He was handsome. But. It was good that he pretended like he had never seen her. It was the way that this was supposed to work. Had he told him to do this? She wasn't so sure. He seemed to skip over a lot of things, generally. It stung. Michiru scowled a little. He would get her thanks and he would accept it, damn it!

The young blonde began to move away again, and this time, she let him. However, she followed. She was going to follow. Until he looked back and acknowledged her and accepted that which she wanted to give. Either he would accept it, or she would die trying.

God, what a stupid stray.

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AN: Well, here it is. First off, I'd like to apologize about the delayed update. I had a party this weekend and yesterday we all went out to the lake and well…seeing as I'm whiter than a ghost, I got the hell burned out of me. I was too tired to write last night, it wouldn't have been very cohesive, and even know, I'm still unsure. But what ever, at least they're together, right? (The savior is Haruka, for those who need the extra little hint.) Uh…well. I'm supposed to go over to my friends house right now, since a great friend of mine is moving tomorrow, therefore, I should probably cut this one rather short. As a result of the delayed update, I'll most likely update sometime during the week, just to say sorry.

As usual, if anyone has any questions, drop me a review and I'll reply! Which means it's that time of day, folks:

**Petiyaka** - Thanks! ^^

**T** - I loved your little ramble. It made me happy, really. You'll learn who Mr. White is soon enough. I actually can't believe I haven't revealed him yet. It's four chapters into it, and I still haven't given away anything. Amazing.

**Lostinhersong** - Will do!

**Dreaded Demon of Night - **Well, here it is, huh?

**Tripower** - You'll see. I'm glad you like it. And I know it was a little short, but that's the way that I intended it to be. Now you have something much more meaty to read. Isn't it exciting?

**Anon** - I appreciate the review. I like doing things my own way, and with the whole underground fighting thing, I thought that something sassy like "Ru" would be more fitting. I don't like the whole not good at grammar too. It sucks. x_x

**Swinging Cloud** - Happy now? I told you I'd have it up tonight, didn't I? Epic win. Now I'm going to go eat some chimichongas.

Well, till next chapter, everyone!


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter 5

Why? Why did it have to be her? Why why why?

Haruka groaned inwardly when she realized it. This wasn't supposed to happen. But how could she just let a girl get raped? God. She should have just left the entire situation in the hands of the violinist. NOW she was following her. She was like a lost puppy. Quirking an eyebrow, the blonde snuck a glance over her shoulder. Sure, she was maintaining her distance, and sure she wasn't actually saying anything. But that look. It was enough to make the most hardened of men squirm.

Every time she took a step, the other would follow. It was like some crazy game. Always ten feet back, buy always within eye sight. Just as a reminder. The blonde scoffed a little, adjusting the bag that she cradled in her arms. She really needed to go home. But. If she took that girl all the way out there, she would never get back to her indoor swimming pool and queen sized bed. In fact, Haruka was quite certain that she would become quite lost and would just break down in the middle of the road in tears. Maybe it would be worth watching.

Turning into a side alley, the blonde hoped to lose her. Or at least scare her off. It was rather dim, and the pungent stench of rotting animal flesh mixed with garbage was rather invasive. It was quite the turn off, in her opinion. Perfect for losing strangers and irritating pests that wouldn't leave you alone. Generally said pests would go huddle around the corpses. She dared to let a snicker pass her lips at the thought. She looked back momentarily to see if her plan was working. The violinist inched a little closer, the gap beginning to dwindle. Her eyebrows knit with worry, those sapphire eyes struck with a hidden fear. So it was. Good.

Picking up the pace, the young woman looked down at the bag again. This was dangerous. She should be bringing it home. But this girl. She looked back again. Damnit. She was closer. Her plan was backfiring. Haruka let out a small sigh. What did she do to deserve this? She didn't have time to play babysitter all day. Something fell upon the ground, shattering the silence. Jumping a little, she looked to the source. A rat nosing its way through some debris. Something reached out and touched right between her shoulder blades. She stopped, her muscles tensing, her body whirling around to meet her assailant.

The violinist was only two inches from her self. Her hand was still outstretched, her fingers curled just in the slightest. Even if she hadn't screamed, she had been thoroughly startled, that much was evident. Though, Haruka did have to hand it to her. She did have a very good mask.

"My apologies," she said as she brought her hand back to her chest. She was shaking. Quite a day for the young woman. Haruka's scowl deepened. God damnit. Why did she have to be this way?

"Don't worry about it. Come on, then," she replied. Her voice was still gruff, but it was a little softer than before. Okay. So. Now she felt a little bad for the poor rich girl. The least she could do is get her out of the alley and onto a main street before she ditched her. She commenced in walking, once more, her sights set upon the busy street that was at the end of the way.

"Thank you." The voice cut through her. Haruka sighed. Why did she care so much _now_? She sure didn't seem so intent upon following and talking to her a few nights prior.

"How about you just go home." Really.

"If you want me to go home, then accept my thanks."

"I don't want your thanks."

"But it's crucial that you accept it!"

"Why? It's not going to make anything in this world different." The tension sparked. But she said nothing in reply. It really wasn't. It shouldn't matter if she accepted the girls thanks or not. She saved her. Big deal. She was only doing what any other reasonable person would have done had they been in the situation. Nothing was different. She saved a girl. Woo hoo. Tonight, she would go back to her shack and her mother would still be sick, her father would still be cold and they still wouldn't have a bed to sleep in. At least there would be food. And likewise, tonight the violinist would go home, bathe in her lake sized bath tub, eat a few bites of a feast, then go to sleep between silk sheets.

Maybe she was…no. Ha. Haruka wasn't jealous. Never. She didn't get jealous. In fact, jealous wasn't even in her vocabulary. But it sure would be nice. The bustle of the busy street tore her from her thoughts. The sounds of chattering people on a nice afternoon were accompanied nicely by the sweeping of a brook, the chiming of glasses and the smell of freshly baked bread. Her stomach grumbled.

"Have you eaten?" Oh. Hell. She had heard it. That or she just had impeccable timing.

"No," she lied, her shoulders rising just a little with an indifferent shrug. They broke through the alley and were standing upon the sidewalk. The sun raised high over head, the sky clear as a crystal. A large man walked by, his eyes falling down upon the young woman. Something flashed in his eyes. Haruka raised an eyebrow and grabbed Michiru's wrist.

"Allow me to buy you lunch, please," she begged. God, she was so persistent. Her skin crawled a little as she pulled the young woman closer to her. They weren't in the best part of town. The rich stayed on one end and the less fortunate, well. They had this end. The burrows. And it was not a place that the classes should ever mix. It was bad for business. And even worse for the well endowed. Why had she gone this way? Haruka furrowed a brow, confused at even her own idea. This was a dangerous place for this girl. She didn't want her to get hurt, only for her to leave her alone. At this rate, she may as well take out a sewing needle and stitch their bodies together. And it was all her own damn fault.

"Now's not the time, woman." She said it lowly, dangerously. Did she honestly even know where she was? Of course they could always go back down the alley, but that would just bring them right back to the start. Go backwards, or forwards. Well. Since she had the choice, and since she hated backtracking, forwards was the most logical option. "Just follow me. And for crissake. Don't speak."

Normally, she would have been thrilled to have a beautiful girl so close. Normally she would have swooped her off her feet and taken her away. Normally. But this girl was not normal. She made something spark inside of Haruka's chest. Made something swim at the back of her mind. Something that she couldn't quite explain. And that something was now directing her. Protect her.

Her eyes fell upon the small grocery store a little ways down the road. Generally, it was safe in there. She needed to buy some food anyways. What a wonderful field trip. With her arm now wrapped securely around the smaller woman's shoulders she began to walk. Thank God she knew how to do as she was told. Sometimes. Not all the time, but at least this one time.

What was that. Did she smell…good? Haruka's eyes widened a bit. No. She wasn't. She wasn't smelling her. Stop it. She turned her face away, sending a displeased glare at the people that couldn't stop staring. Apparently, it was such a spectacle. She felt her foot step down from the curb. Then something wrench her to the side.

"Well well well. Look what the cat dragged in." The voice made her blood run cold and her eyes darken. She turned to look, her teeth clenched tightly. No longer was the blue haired youth safe beneath her arm. No. For the second time in the span of probably ten minutes, she was being man handled. Something flared in Haruka's chest.

"From da looks of it, boss, it's Haruka. Comin' 'round to play agin, kitty kitty?"

"Ah, I tink there's a gues' 'mong da stray today, fellas."

A chorus of dark chuckles followed the statement. Her fists tightened, the bag being held a bit more protectively to her chest now. She had to keep calm. Level headed. Take a deep breath. She counted the crew before she replied.

"Leave her out of it, Jazz." The first who spoke shook his head, obviously amused. That was his name. Jazz. And he certainly was nasty. He wasn't fat or plump, no, he was just like any other poor worker. He had dirty black hair and cool grey eyes. Stood up to Haruka's shoulder, however. He had the small man complex. He looked rough, beaten. Like he had been through the ringer one too many times. And he was always looking for a fight. It just so happened that he enjoyed harassing her best. His crew was a motley one, ranging from the illiterate dumb ass to the wise cracking pinto bean. In total, there were about five of them. About. If you could count the man that was draped on the giants shoulder. He was missing a leg. So. He counted as half.

"Oh, but Ruka, babe. Somethin' else entirely is tellin' me to get inta her. How can I leave such a strong feelin' alone?" He made a suggestive motion towards the confused violinist. Knowing her type, Haruka expected her to try and sort this out with diplomacy. Yeah. Like that was going to pan over well.

"I beg your pardon!" She exclaimed, a look of disgust mixing with her features. She looked at the large man that held her tightly, her eyes narrowing a little. In this moment, Haruka felt bad for her. Hero. Once again. She would have to be the hero.

"Can you go anywhere without men trying to get into your pants? _Honestly_, work on your god damn floosie skills. Meaning, stop being one!" She looked back at Jazz, taking a cautious step forward.

"Well, if you weren't such a hard headed _dolt_, then we wouldn't be in this situation!" She fired back. Had she just called her a dolt? Haruka blinked. Okay. So. She had fire. How unexpected. Maybe she did have a personality.

"Ooh. The kitten is feisty." Jazz was not going to let his presence be ignored. He laid his hand upon Michiru's flat stomach, gently stroking the fabric beneath his hand. Before he could do anything substantial, however, he felt a fist thrown right into the back of his neck. Haruka was mad.

Jesus Christ. This girl couldn't go anywhere without men ogling her.

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Well, he certainly wasn't the type to really be overly excited about talking to anyone, it seemed. Maybe she should have left him alone. He was, after all, just trying to do what he had ordered him to. That fighter. He sure was a scrapper. There was always a fight waiting to be had when he was around. She wondered why. Well. That's probably why he was recruited in the first place. But this was ridiculous.

First at the café. And now here. What the hell. Maybe she should have left him in that alley. But. It was rather dark. And she really didn't want to go back anywhere near Mr. O'Neil. Now she regretted her decision.

A large hand was wrapped around her shoulders, hands coming around to hold her own behind her back. Man this sucked. The blue haired youth let out a small sigh inwardly. Wait. Had the short man just called that scrapper _babe_. And…Ruka? Where had that come from?

All she could do was sit and watch. She was pretty useless. Unless someone wanted her to paint a picture of the fight. Then maybe she could have served a purpose. She felt a little bad, actually. How dramatic. And how stupid. Maybe she should stop going out and just stay inside so that way none of this would happen. All she wanted to do was give the young man a nice thank you and be on her way. But he wouldn't have any of it! Why? Was she really that ugly? She hadn't thought she was, but maybe…

Before she could finish that thought, something rubbed her stomach. Bile rose to her stomach, a dull luster misting over her eyes. The sensation crawled under her skin, spreading quickly through every sensory nerve that she possessed. Her muscles began to tense, but she wasn't struggling. That only made it worse. She held her breath, her heart hammering madly in her chest. She hoped that he would save her. She really did. Perhaps it was a selfish wish. But she didn't want this to happen.

Something slammed between her breasts, her eyes flicking down the face that was being pushed there. Outraged, she saw the hand, the bruised knuckles. Funny. They looked like a musicians hand. Long fingers. Wait. Focus. She looked up to that handsome face. He was holding that mans face against her. What the HELL was he thinking?! Perhaps he wasn't thinking at all! Maybe he was just trying to use them to get to her! Oh, she should have known!

With her anger in the forefront of her mind, the young violinist threw reason and rationality out the window. She wanted this face away from her. She could feel his hot breath beading against her skin. It was warm. Putrid. Disgusting. She would have sworn it was a reflex. That kick. The one that found his groin. The one that found his stomach. She could feel him grunt and cry out in protest at the sensation. All against her. Something crawled creepily down her spine. She didn't like it. Get it away.

That's when she started to struggle, her eyes closed, her arms flailing madly. She had never fought herself. No. Never in a million years would she have been allowed down in that place. But she had seen it done before. A million times, in fact. How hard could it be? The hands that were restraining her own were having a hard time. They were slipping. Tossing herself back and forth against the force, she didn't even hear the struggle going on around her.

She didn't hear the sickening cracks. She didn't hear the cries of pain. She didn't smell the crimson. She didn't see the beaten forms. All she could think of was how to survive. She didn't even hear the tear. Or the shatter. Or the sound of him crying out in frustration. What was no good? She caught that. Her eyes fluttered open for only a second, those sapphire orbs falling upon the young man that had been her savior already once before. He was rushing at her. Something glinted in his hands.

No! She didn't want to die this way! She only wanted to thank him!

She closed her eyes tightly, fear replacing the anger that she had felt earlier. Something twisting in her gut when she heard something sink into flesh. Well. Death sure didn't hurt. Huh. Funny how that works out. The sweaty palms that had held her still for no more than three minutes were loosed. A thud indicated a body hitting the ground. She was afraid to open her eyes. Something cool beaded down her neck, her insides telling her to get out of this place. But. Hell! Now he had saved her twice.

She slowly opened her eyes. They were all around. Sprawled out unconscious and groaning.

_He's going to have to do much better than that…_

"Shit." The curse was violent and bitter. She looked at him, confused. But then saw it. Embedded in his right hand, arm, as well as his side were shards of glass and…needles? WAS THAT A NEEDLE?! Blood poured from the open wounds. They weren't really deep, well. Most of them weren't. Her eyes widened significantly as she moved to his side, looking at the shards.

"Can we please go see a doctor?" She was hesitant in asking him. He seemed to not really like company. All the more reason to stick around, really. She shouldn't be.

"No." Was his blunt reply. Something was masked in his voice. Her eyebrow raised for a split second.

"Come with me." Michiru grasped the young man's good hand and began to pull, her feet quickly taking her back down the path that they had previously travelled. The rat was still there. Stupid thing. But this time, she wasn't frightened by it. This time, she was okay.

"Where are you taking me, woman?"

"Sh." She could just imagine him wrinkling his nose. A soft smile fluttered to her lips. Maybe she really was doing this just to antagonize him. But if he wasn't going to go to a doctor, then she would surprise him, herself. They passed Gaffigan's. Mr. O'Neil was no where to be seen. Good. She hoped she wouldn't see him again. Her pace quickened a little when she caught sight of the door.

"Oh no! You are not taking me in there!" the young blonde cried out. He struggled a little. But she noticed this: he wasn't trying very hard.

"What is it, Ruka, can't bear to hurt a poor, innocent girl like me?" She teased lightly. She felt his muscles stiffen.

"Don't call me that." His voice was low. Bashful. Embarrassed almost. She quirked an eyebrow. Stifling a small chuckle, she pulled him into the door, the smell of sterile equipment and medication infiltrating her senses. Mm. The smell of clean.

"Haruka? Why are you back so soon?" The receptionist gave the young blonde a small once over, her eyes popping out of her head momentarily. "Really! What have you done to yourself now?" She stood, running through a door and making her way towards the two. It was as if the violinist didn't exist.

"I couldn't bear to stay away from you, Nan. But I didn't want to just come back." Something shot through Michiru as she heard the exchange. Wow. Now he's friendly. When a complete strange nurse is involved, it's all candles and romantic words. But with her it's all cold, callous quips. She crossed her arms in front of her chest, her features darkening just a little. She tapped her foot impatiently.

The nurse laughed, a blush daring to streak her cheeks. Whore. She refused to look at them. That happy couple. Made her want to throw up. Fine. He could have it his way. What did it matter to her? He was just another lacky. She was sure that he would be a dog soon enough. No. She shouldn't ever wish that upon someone. Michiru brought a hand to her forehead, a chill racing down her spine. Her sapphire eyes locked with his emerald ones. What was with him. There was something off. Something she just couldn't place. It was driving her nuts.

"No really, what happened?" The nurse insisted. Slowly, she was tugging the young scrapper towards the double doors which read "AUTHORIZED PERSONNEL ONLY" in large, bold, red words.

"Mrs. Fancypants can't keep herself out of trouble long enough for a cat to breathe," he replied, jabbing his thumb back towards her. Suddenly, she felt alienated. Alone. As if she had caused this entire thing. Which, in truth, she technically had, but so what? It wasn't like she had meant for it to happen. He was acting like she had. She looked away, her arms crossed neatly in front of her chest.

She could feel the nurses eyes upon her. She was judging her. And it was not a pleasant feeling. Maybe this had been a bad idea. Michiru swallowed a little as she fidgeted. She looked at the chairs that were placed so conveniently in the small waiting room. Should she stay until he came out? Probably. Probably should bring him back to his home, just for her own peace of mind. The streets were dangerous. Who knows what goes on out there. Certainly not the type of thing that any normal person would want to get mixed up in.

Then again. Who would want to get mixed up in the Slaughts? They weren't normal people. Not by far. They were the severely misguided. The desperate. The ones that have no other way out. Her eyes fell upon the back of the young man just before he disappeared through the door. People like him. The ones who don't live in privilege. Suddenly, she felt sick. This wasn't right. None of it was.

A macabre atmosphere began to fall around her as she waited. There was silence. The tick of the clock. The tock of its hand. Tick tock. Funny how time passes by. So slowly, yet so quick at the same time. And that clock will continue its song even after all have died and moved on. How odd. Ironic. It was just a means to an end. That's what he had tried to tell her once. That it was an honest living. That if they didn't do it, who else would?

Born into privilege? More like born into captivity.

Even now, in a room completely void of any other life, she sat straight, her hands folded neatly. In the depths of thought, she maintained that perfect, cool smile. Sometimes she was afraid that her mask was flaking. But it was made of steel. No one saw through it. Her eyes dulled a little. The minutes seemed like hours. How many years was this going to take? She could feel her life slipping away. Slowly. Surely.

The door burst open, startling her for a split second. She looked at him. He looked at her. She couldn't speak. Was this who he was? He smiled down at the nurse, a brilliant, wolfish smile. Enchanting, really. She shouldn't want to get to know a fighter. That was a bad mix. Something that she shouldn't ever even think about. But somewhere, in the back of her mind, she really wanted to know him. Maybe they could be friends. Maybe if he stopped hating her guts. That would also make her life a little bit easier. Really. What was his problem?

His gaze locked with hers.

"You're still here?" He asked. His voice was suddenly frosty again. She kept her smile in place.

"It's because of me that you have been harmed, after all." That wasn't it. She was worried about him. She didn't want him to be hurt. It was, really, her fault.

"Well, I don't need you or your sympathy." She was tired of playing the game.

"Fine. But don't come crying to me when they feed you to the dogs." Irritation bubbled up inside of her as she stood and began to walk away. She didn't take the time to gauge the apparent confusion upon his face.

What was she talking about? What did it matter, really. What a jerk. That scrapper. She hadn't done a single thing to him and he was acting as if she had punched him right in the face and then called his mom a lily livered hooker. For one, she was far too classy to use such a term, and two, she really didn't want to sink to his violent Neanderthal level of beating the hell out of someone you don't know. She was far above that.

She wasn't above him. She was not better than him. Not personality wise. But on a level of morals, she was. How much money will a person fight for, really. It's all about money. And money? It meant nothing to her.

And everything to him.

--------

AN: Okay. Here it is. I don't like this one. I really really don't. I'm so freakin' tired. I haven't been getting much SLEEP lately for some unknown reason. Oh yeah…and I broke up with my girlfriend…yeah. It's been a rough couple of days. But since I told you all that I would update sometime in the week, and since someone was implying that I should give my reviewers what they want, here it is. My head is sort of everywhere, so this chapter was just…bleh. I sort of wanted to develop the two, but at the same time, I really just want to get my plot moving. I do have ideas. Good ones. And I hope everyone sticks around long enough for me to uncover them. No one really asked any questions, so I'm not going to reply to anything.

If you do have any questions, please feel free to drop me a review. Or do it anyways. I like reviews. And thanks to all of those who have reviewed and taken the time to read the story. Heart you guys.

Till next chapter.

PS: Sorry if it sucked. x_x


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter 6

"_Fine. But don't come crying to me when they feed you to the dogs."_

October 13th, 1922.

Friday.

4:30 pm.

Perhaps she was thinking too hard. They meant nothing, right? Surely. Those words, they were just a hallow threat. Or maybe an insult. She hadn't really seemed to be one who possessed the best insults. Maybe it was her own way of saying "Go to hell." A cryptic chill ran through her chest. No. That couldn't be it. It was something else. Something else entirely.

Cars putted along the paved street, people going home for the evening. Work had let out. It was quitting time. Men with soot covering their faces, or oil drenching their clothes walked down the side walks, talking to each other about the games, or other such trifles. Everything was moving all around her. The wind blew a chilly breeze that passed through her threadbare clothes. Her face was flushed, her nose a little rosy. Quietly, she pulled her hat down further to cover her eyes. He would recognize her. Hell. Anyone could recognize her. She liked to pretend like she was invisible, though. Over all, it seemed to be working quite well.

Another gust. Withered, brown leaves scrapped across the ground, the smell of autumn being released as a result. It was crisp. Brisk. Wonderful. Refreshing. She loved it when the trees were nothing more than skeletons. She loved the turning and falling leaves. She loved the colors. It was like a splash of life. Even better than spring. Haruka took a deep breath, her shoulder gently hitting the side of a tree.

The corner of Miller's. 1st Ave and Baker St.

Okay, so, she was a little early. But she really didn't want to make Charles wait. For some reason, she had the sneaky suspicion that if she did, he wouldn't idle for her to show up. Nope. She would have to find her own way there. And that would certainly be a sight to see. She didn't mind waiting. Not for something like this. Her muscles tensed, her adrenaline beginning to peak, but it was still early in the evening. In fact, the sun was just now setting. Her emerald eyes flicked up. The sky was on fire. And it was for her. She could see the flames licking up, consuming all that got in its path. It was violent. Angry. Yet warm and comforting at the same time. Beautiful. That's what it was.

In the distance, a deep chime signaled the turn of the hour. So she really had been spacing off for that long. The young woman looked down, smoothing out her coat and pulling her hat a bit further down on her forehead. It was cold. And the head is where the most heat, generally, escapes from. She was not interested in becoming a popsicle. She took another deep breath. All she had to do was wait. Wait and beat the ever loving snot out of someone. That's all. Piece of cake. Simple as pie. Yeah. She could do this.

"…_when they feed you to the dogs."_

She certainly had stormed off. What did she care. Hmph. That girl was nothing but trouble. All she accomplished in life was mastery of the violin as well as mastery of being dominated. Her personality was as flat as a pancake, and her looks? Her looks! Well. Uh. Her looks…Okay. So, Haruka had nothing to say about her looks. Nothing bad. But she still had a rather terrible personality. Clingy girl. Classy. Sophisticated. Polite. Charming. Beauti—Hey. No. Terrible personality. A grim scowl tugged at the young woman's lips as she thought, her arms crossed in front of her chest. She frightened people, sometimes.

But really. What was that girls' problem? Women were such a mystery. Even if she _was_ one.

"…_feed you to the dogs."_

It made her uncomfortable. All she could think about were those rooms. The rows and rows of heavy steel doors. What lay beyond those hinges? She wasn't sure she wanted to find out.

The screech of brakes shook her from her thoughts, her eyes falling upon that lovely car. She could feel her mouth beginning to work. Really. Haruka really wanted to drool all over it. To touch and feel it purr beneath her fingers. To press that pedal and make it go. It would be bliss. Absolute and total harmony. Maybe he would let her, someday. If she did really well and continued to get him his money. He might let her drive it. Mischief sparked. A goal was now in mind. Girls? Money? What did they matter (well, to her own personal desires, that is)? Cars? Ooooh. She could babble about them for hours.

"I believe it's time for us to depart, young sir." His voice was wizened, posh and elegant. Everything that you would expect from a chauffer. In fact, he would have been the perfect Jeeves. Save for the lack of the name. Oh well. Haruka nodded her head, acknowledging him as she stepped inside of the vehicle and taking her seat. It still smelled heavily of tobacco, but it was a little less invasive. Probably because Mr. White wasn't here, lighting up a cigar or cigarette, which in succession would fill up the entire cab of the car. Regardless, the ride was a lot more relaxing and enjoyable this time around.

No creeps hanging off of her. No talk of money. Just the landscape. The purr of the engine. And her thoughts.

"…_dogs."_

--------

"What do you mean some of it was _bad_?" His voice was urgent, angry and soft.

"Some of it was damaged in the process."

"Well, who the hell was authorized to move it?"

"We're still trying to find that out."

"That's not good enough!" His voice spiked to a yell, his fingers suddenly pressing into her biceps. He gripped her hard, pulling her close to him, his nose brushing against hers. Venom shot a trail through his iris, a small vein beginning to throb lightly upon his forehead. She looked to the side, her face blank from any expression at all. Better to show nothing than to show something unladylike. She could hear his teeth grinding, could feel his muscles shaking with the strain. He was breathing down her neck. He was pulling her closer.

"How damaged?" he finally asked. Frustration and anger were still in his eyes.

"A few broken limbs," she replied back, her voice soft and shaking just in the slightest. She should have been used to his violent outbursts by now. Especially about something so important. He was not pleased with the answer. She felt herself being tossed aside immediately after his grip tightened upon her arms. Her body fell heavily against the wall. Fortunately, she was not hurt. Taking a small breath, she composed herself and turned to face him once again. A polite smile was once again placed upon her lips. It was the furthest from the truth.

"A few broken _limbs_, Michiru? A few _broken limbs_?" She nodded her head, though she knew it was a rhetorical question. He began to advance again, his dark eyes seething. The muscle upon his jaw jumped, his face beginning to turn red. "What price do you think a few broken limbs are going to fetch?" He waited for her to answer. All he got was a stammered, yet whispered "W-well…" before he interjected again, his hands upon her shoulders, pushing her roughly back into the wall. "They're fucking _worthless_, with a _few broken limbs_, Michiru! FUCKING WORTHLESS." Yelling now, he slammed her into the wall again. She closed her eyes, her own hands balling just a little. Yeah. But it wasn't her fault. None of this was her fault. She hadn't been there. In fact, if she had, then none of this would have happened. Everything would still be intact.

"The situation is being handled as we speak," she said, trying to make amends.

"There shouldn't be a situation to _begin_ with, Michiru! _You_, should have seen to _that_!" Her own anger was beginning to flare. How was this her fault? He had asked her to come in early to help him with some paper work. There was so much and he couldn't possibly do it all on his own. If it was anyone's fault, it was his own. She couldn't say that, though. Not to him. Not ever.

"I apologize for the inconvenience. If you permit it, I can send Holds out to make an emergency placement. We can repair the other product in the mean time, and use the replacement in its stead," she suggested. It felt wrong. But this was procedure.

"What happens if we _lose_ it? Then what? Another two thousand down the drain?" She didn't know what to say to that. Her sapphire eyes dropped, ashamed. Almost, she bit her lip, but she caught herself before she could. No. She wouldn't do that. She had to think logically. Business like. What was going to be good for the company. What did the buyers want?

"You told me that it wouldn't happen again, doll."

"Sir, we can fix this problem, here and n--"

"HOW?! HOW can you FIX this right NOW, Michiru?" She shouldn't have to deal with this. It was going to make her hair turn grey prematurely. He was such a stressor. Such a child. A small sigh slipped through her lips as she straightened his tie and smoothed the collar of his ivory suit.

"If you do not wish to rely upon Holds, we'll have potential sellers here. Tonight." Something sparked in his eyes at the thought. Of course. Why hadn't he thought of it? His mood was almost forgotten when he remembered something quite vital. A dark shroud began to take over his features. A scary, black veil of absolute anger. There was no quelling the fire. Not yet. The storm was just beginning. She winced a little when she felt his finger nails begin to bite into her flesh, bruises already beginning to develop beneath his strong palms.

"You lost me another sale. Do you think you can just talk your way out of the consequences?" Her eyes fluttered closed. She had to take it. "Sales are what make a business work. When one is broken, then a small, tiny chain of the company is broken. You aren't trying to ruin us, are you?" She didn't want to look at him. Her heart beat madly in her chest as she shook her head. She could hardly breathe. Everything was being constricted. It was only a matter of time before he released her right shoulder and—

A sudden knock upon the door made her jump. All too quickly, the man pulled back from her, releasing her from his grip. Anger was still written all over his face, but he plastered a smile on his lips. He was aggravated. She was saved. For at least another few seconds. But no one was every truly saved. This would continue later. Be it two minutes, five hours, or thirty seconds. This discussion wasn't over. Not for a long shot.

"Come in."

The door swung open, the tall, slightly aged driver standing in front of the slender young scrapper. Michiru relaxed a little, a nervous bead of sweat snaking its way down her spine as she smoothed her black dress out. It hurt to move. It hurt to breathe. But she was still alive. He hadn't quite decapitated her. Not yet. So, he was being her hero even indirectly. How odd. She crossed the room to stand behind the man's desk, peering down at some of the paper work that he had been working on previously. She wouldn't look at him. He was an irritating hot head that didn't seem to care for anyone but himself. He was a jerk. And quite frankly, she did not enjoy his company. Not after the way he had treated her.

"Ah! My boy! Come in come in! Sit down!" He said, his arms open wide as he moved passed his driver and slung an arm around his new found champion. She almost wanted to roll her eyes. Almost. But she didn't. Instead, she remained fixated upon the papers. Speak only if spoken to. That's the game she would play. "Thank you Charles." He was dismissed, just like that. The door closed behind him. And it was just the three of them in that room. Great.

"It's great to see you're upholding your end of the contract," he said, a smile lighting his features. What a faker. Maybe that's where she learned it from. The young man grunted in reply. Okay, so maybe he wasn't nice to everyone. Just anyone he thought he could get into bed with. Her fingers thumbed through each contract. Each sale. It was very professional. Very.

"Oh her?" The young man hadn't said anything. She knew that. Perhaps he was looking at her. Glaring at her, maybe. She felt his eyes burning into her skin. Obligated, she looked up and smiled. But not at Haruka. No. At Mr. White, instead. Maybe if she charmed her way back into his good graces…

"I don't believe you've met this lovely lady yet, have you, son?" There was still no answer. She knew as well as he did that that was untrue. Further from the truth than her blaringly fake smile.

She nodded her head, her locks bouncing lightly around her face as she did so. She wouldn't say anything. Well. Nothing more than was necessary. It was bound to get her into more trouble than what it was worth. She saw the displeased look upon Mr. White's face, unfortunately. She knew what he was going to do. Straightening up, the young woman crossed the distance between herself and the out stretched arm of the older man. She nodded her head to Haruka, who in return just stared. A frosty. Bitter. Stare.

"Champ, meet Michiru. Only the prettiest, finest, most graceful piece of woman to ever walk these floors." She nodded her head once again, pretending as if she was being modest. Which, in truth, she was modest, but…

"Ru, baby, this is Tim--"

"Haru!"

"—Haru, my next big winner. Isn't he charming?" Her lip twitched a little at the question. Charming? Anything but.

"Coming around to play again, huh, kitty kitty?" The jib was subtle, the scoff almost non existent. But left in the blows wake was a polite, seemingly innocent remark. And she knew it made his blood boil. She could see the way it filled his eyes. Tension sparked in the air. She wasn't going to back down. She hadn't done anything wrong, after all. That polite smile stayed firmly upon her lips. Inside, she was glad that she could make him squirm. For the grief that he had given her. This was his just desserts.

"Well, aren't you playful tonight?" Mr. White broke the awkward silence, his hand coming down hard onto Michiru's shoulder. Her eyes widened for a split second, pain shooting and screaming through her at the touch. The bruise would be bad. It's a good thing she had a jacket to throw over her shoulders. She didn't want anyone to become suspicious. Looking towards the door, then at the clock that was placed right above it, she moved away from Mr. White.

"If you gentlemen would excuse me." Humbly, quietly, the violinist nodded her head to each of them. It was about time for everything. The monotony would commence. How wonderful. Without making her welcome overstayed, Michiru made her way to the door, looking over her shoulder one last time to exchange a look with Mr. White. He was still angry. And she knew what that expression meant. They would deal with this later. Later. Great.

Feverishly, she wished that this night would never end. That she could just sit in her box forever and never have to see him again.

--------

"Don't mind her, she's a busy girl." Yeah. Busy getting herself into bad situations. Haruka rolled her eyes, her arms crossing in front of her chest. She didn't even watch the girl leave. She didn't acknowledge her presence. As far as she was concerned, that girl, what was her name? Michiru. She was about as important as the fly that was buzzing around in the room. Haughtily, the young woman took her hat off of her head, racked her fingers through her hair, then replaced the hat, her eyes closing.

"I know you'll do great out there, spit! Just don't lose focus. It's you or him." He was rubbing her shoulder as he spoke. It was as if he was in his own little world. He was such a weird man. In fact, now that she thought of it, she didn't actually know his name. Huh. Funny how that works. Oh well. So long as she got her money at the end of the night, she didn't care if his name was Captain Kangaroo. He moved away from her. Thank God. Assuming she was dismissed, Haruka began to walk towards the door. But before she could do a full turn, a paper was thrust beneath her nose. She looked at it. Confused, just in the slightest, she took it, then looked at the man beside her.

"It's the bouts. See, assuming you make it far, you'll be going four, maybe five times tonight. Just think of the money, man. That should be enough incentive." Something wasn't right with this. She stared at it. It was like a small tournament. Did they do this every week? She quirked a questioning eyebrow, but before she could ask, he was pushing her out the door. He was such an odd man. It was like he had ADD or something. His attention could never be caught by one thing for too long before it leapt and jumped to the next.

"Hurry, lad! Or else you're going to be late!" She stumbled out the door, catching herself upon the railing before she looked back at the already entrance. Shaking her head, she shrugged her shoulders. He wasn't good company anyways. In fact, she disliked him more than the violinist. And that was saying something. Now…maybe she wasn't all bad. That musician. The thought crossed her mind for a split second before she dismissed it. No. Never in a million years.

The crowd was beginning to pour in, the rich moving up into the catwalks to sit in their boxes, the average working man either sitting in the benches that encompassed the pit, or meandering about. The girls were already out, working their magic upon the horn dogs that passed through the thresholds, the band already in full swing. It was coming to life. This night club. Where everyone met to gamble their lives away. To drink contraband alcohol. To gawk at the women. A small smirk pulled at the corner of her mouth as she made her way down the stairs.

She was handsome. A lot handsomer than the average joe. She was sure that she could get one of these girls if she really tried. But who knew what sort of crazy infections or disease they were ridden with. Probably nothing worse than the rabies that infected those of her kind. Those slum dogs. Rubbing her face a little, she let those emerald eyes dance for a second upon one. Tall. Slender. Sultry. She could just reach out and take her. She was beautiful, yeah. Fun game. Their eyes locked for a split second before the young fighter thrust her hands in her pockets and made her way towards the door. She had traveled this way twice, but she already felt like she knew it. The quiet corridor that lead down. Down down down.

Her footsteps echoed against the bare, stone walls, the air getting cooler the further she moved. Finally, she was in that long corridor of doors. It was almost as if she could hear the screech of rust. She could hear the whispers behind those sound tight sheets. She could feel the cool fingers dragging down her spine. It was not a very happy place. And she definitely was not too intent upon staying there. Alone it was worse. You could hear the howls. She quickened her pace, standing outside of the door that would lead to her place of work. No sense in getting her hat or coat torn. Stripping of her warm layers, she put them in the corner, out of the way. No one was going to make off with her clothes. She was sure of it. Taking a deep breath, she closed her eyes. Unconsciously, she tied that white cloth around her knuckles again. Her heart pumped. Her muscles tensed. It was all or nothing.

She could do this.

--------

"Welcome back, ladies and gents! It seems as thought tonight will be a night to remember!" She spoke into the mic, her posture ram rod straight, her hands lightly gripping the base of the instrument. Another night. Another week. Another day in which she had to dread. Just get it done and over with. Quick. Like a bandaid. Her stomach flipped a little. Tonight she'd have to tell him to. All of the fire and anger that had burned inside of her had been chilled by that one thought. But she couldn't let her voice waver.

The cries of the crowd echoed through out the establishment, a small smile gracing her lips. They were so excited. They always were. Humans had this blood lust built into them. They wanted to see people fight. They loved the thrill, the gamble. But they knew that no harm actually came to themselves. It was just a way to let out all of your anger without actually having to raise a hand against someone else. Granted, she knew that a lot of fights did break out in the stands over bets and winnings. Happened all the time.

"Outside it's cold, but in here it's about to get hot hot hot! Turn down the furnace boys, because I can already feel it warming up!" Her voice was light. It had to be. If the announcer was in bad spirits, then the crowd was in bad spirits. And as a result, there would be less money. Less money meant loss of sale. And well. Loss of sale…that didn't turn out so good. Her shoulders ached slightly at the thought.

"Well, look who it is, fellas! It appears as though that young stray is out for first blood! Come on, young cat, get out of your gate!" The white door opened and out he stepped. He looked calm. Collected. He wasn't a show boater. She liked that about him. Or maybe he was just arrogant. Well. He was arrogant. She could tell by the way he held himself. The way he addressed everyone around him. He thought he was better. But he had nothing? How ironic.

"Don't he look cute? Aww." The entire crowd joined in awing with her. She was doing it just to aggravate him. From where she was sitting, however, she couldn't quite tell if it worked or not. What did it matter. The black door shook a little, the plank flying open, a shorter, yet still beefy, man jumping out of the threshold. He smiled up at the crowd, pumping his muscles and roaring a battle cry. She rolled her eyes.

"It appears as though we have an impatient opponent, gents! But here he is, out of the black door, it's Mason! Lookit those muscles pump. He loves you and we love him, ain't that right?" She looked down at the handsome cat. It was in this moment that she wanted to push him back through those doors. It's always better to run away than to meet something like this straight on. He didn't know what was coming. Either he would get hit by a train, or he would be hitting someone else with said train.

"TO THE MIDDLE GENTLEMEN!" She cried over the mic, her voice shaking the stands. The gambling was well underway. Ten on the new guy, thirty on Mason. There was no way a little guy like that could win. Bull was just a fluke. A bit of luck. But still, there were a few willing to take the gamble. The two fighters approached each other.

"Here we go! Tension is sparking between them, can't you just see it? It's flying all over the place as they circle. You know, nothing is going to be won if you keep doing that gents, lunge, attack, bite, kick! Throw your stratagems out the window and go for the gol—OH! Finally! Mason has lost his patience and has thrown a nice hook at the cat. Too bad for him, it appears as though he missed the first fight. This little sucker is slicker than snot. Again! He's thrown another punch, and this cat is not missing a beat. Is he going for anoth—NO! With a feign, Mason has caught the cat off guard with a swift kick. Sweeping him off of his feet, the cat is now under that man of a Mason. He pulls back and delivers blow after blow to that strays face. Poor cat, already out for the count?" Her heart hammered in her chest. It hadn't even been a minute and he was already on the ground getting the snot beat out of him. The crowd was yelling, but they weren't exactly excited. A fight like this, a one sided fight, it wasn't that thrilling. They wanted the close ones. She bit her lip for a moment before she started speaking again.

"What's happened? Mason is struggling, is he still pummeling the poor scrapper? His shoulder. It's jerking. What? He's just been…With a feat of strength, the cat has flung Mason over his head, rolling him off. The cat is now up, brushing his hand on his shirt. Wait. There's not a speck of blood on his face? Amazing!" How could that be? She could have sworn that she saw Mason come back and punch his face several times. Then again…all she could see was the jerking of his arms.

"Mason looks worse for wear, there's blood pooling out of his right eye, which appears to be swollen. That cat sure does have a nasty scratch. OH! THERE HE GOES. The scrapper has just lunged at Mason. His fingers are tangled up in that greasy mop that Mason calls hair! His leg is coming up! AGAIN AND AGAIN! A knee right to the stomach! How can Mason take this?" She relaxed a little. The crowd screamed and yelled more violently now. YOU BETTER NOT LOSE, MASON! Or GET HIM SCRAPPER! Her window vibrated just in the slightest. This was nothing. Not yet. Sometimes, it was deafening.

"LOOKIT THAT, FOLKS! The scrapper has taken Mason's head and is ramming it into his knee! Will this be it? Can this be it? Mason! Going down without so much as a single—WAIT! The scrapper is stumbling back, gripping his knee. What's wrong with him? Blood has started to stain his pants. He must have bit him. Mason is still in it folks. The scrapper backs off. He does not look happy, does he?" She didn't like how this match was playing with her heart. It was like a bad relationship. However, she really hoped that it didn't end like one.

"Mason makes a cut to the right, followed by a jab to the left. He's circling, trying to confuse the poor kitty. Didn't your mother ever tell you? It's curiosity that killed the cat!" A small wave of chuckles drafted through the window. "Another cut, another jab, but no gain. The cat doesn't seem to be slowing. Mason can't seem to hit the broad side of a barn today, gents! WHAT WAS THAT?! Mason is suddenly flat on his back and that cat, he's on him! Pummeling, for sure this time! Did you just see that tooth fly? The cat is going wild! I think this is the end, folks! I think that this cat is almo…YES! WHY YES! What does that cat have? He has it! The white! He has the white! Mason can't even lift his arms! Look at that!" Her stomach twisted as she looked down at the pit.

"Mr. Kitty Cat. I think it's about time to send that dog to the slaughts!" The crowd echoed the saying in unison. It shook her window, now. The yells. The cheers. She looked down at the young cat, he looked up and around. He was confused. What did that mean? Oh no. No one had told him. He really didn't know. Her door suddenly opened, which caused her to jump. Looking over her shoulder, she saw Mr. White. He looked hopeless.

Quickly, he crossed the distance and squeezed his way in front of the mic.

"Take what you've earned, son! Take that life."

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AN: Hahahaaaaaaaaa. I really liked this chapter. It was a lot of fun to write. And in fact, I think it sort of posed even MORE questions and added a bit of "Oh my god, what the hell?!" For sure. And I guess this was sort of ambiguous. But if you have any questions, feel free to drop me a line, as usual. And. Yeah. I'm feeling much better, like I'm happy. The only thing that sucks is that Assassin's Creed is getting mind blowingly redundant, therefore it's like pulling teeth to finish the last assassination. And I refuse to start Bioshock until I beat that game. ._. I know. Anyways, that's basically been my life. I'm sorry for the delayed update. Saturday, wasn't letting me sign in at all and yesterday, my sister was over, so I didn't have any time really to sit down and write. Besides that, I needed my wall. So, without further ado, I go on to replies:

**T.** - I have to have a schedule to update by. If I don't, it doesn't get done. I'm a procrastinator and have a slight hint of OCD (undiagnosed of course), so as a result, I really need to have a strict time line to follow. It's a good thing someone is keeping me to it. Hahhaa. Okay, on to your questions: You'll find out. I'm glad you're asking and thinking of those things, however. It means I'm doing what I planned on. Hahaha. PS: I did see The Ugly Truth. Hilarious. I'm so glad I didn't go with family, though. That would have been bad.

**Haruka Tenou Distant Sky King** - I can't tell you when Michiru will find out that Haruka is a girl. But I can answer your other question. As of right now, I'm still undecided on if I should bring in any other senshi. I'll have to consult my wall and see what she thinks. I might be able to bring them in, but they would merely be used as tools. Mako would do the same thing, yes, but in this time, she would definitely be under different living conditions than Haruka. So, we'll see.

**Petiyaka** - All in good time. All in good time. Hahaha. Meaning that I'm still deciding. Lawl.

**Swinging Cloud** - In your speculations, because I know you don't read my story any more, not ever, even if there was a fire, I appreciate your enthusiasm. Even though you don't read my story. Ever. I mean. Hi. I'll talk to you later. Hahhaa.

**THANK YOU** to everyone else that reviewed. I do read each and everyone one of them and take them to heart. I appreciate all of the support and happy, kind words. I heart you guys. Thanks for reading. If you have any questions, feel free to drop me a line. I'd be happy to answer. Heart.

Well, that's it for tonight. I'm getting sort of cramped up, so if I sit any longer, I might go nuts. I'll see you guys next week. Hopefully on Saturday, this time. Haha.

Till next time!


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter 7

What did he say?

Haruka's head snapped up towards the tinted window, her eyes wide with shock. What? She had taken his white. She had beat him into submission. Isn't that what she was supposed to do? Isn't that all she had to do? This wasn't in the contract, was it? She looked back at the broken form, his face bloodied and twisted beyond recognition. But now. She had to _take his life_? His arms were slack, his fingers gently curled. A soft, gurgled groan came from his throat. She couldn't do that.

Feet rooted, she continued to look on in awe-struck horror. Take his life. Was this really all worth it? Her heart hammered madly in her chest, thoughts screaming at her to do one or the other. What would happen should she refuse? With her fists balled and her jaw locked, the young woman tore her gaze away from her victim and back up to the box. She stood there in defiance. How would he like that?

The crowd was deafening, shaking her to the very bone. They had never seen this before. Generally, people were informed. How could she have not known? This was, after all, a den of sin. Anything could happen here. Everything did happen here. That's how it was. And no one could stop it. Was this a joke? Maybe she was just trying to be funny. Haruka's shoulders shook as she continued to stare, not moving a single inch. No matter how desperate she was, she would never kill a man. She would rather die on the streets from influenza. Her stomach churned violently.

So that's what she had meant. That dog. That lying, filthy dog. He had pulled a fast one on her. She looked down at the dirtied cloth that was held tightly in her fist. Her knuckles were bruising, blood staining her skin. Fifty dollars was a lot of money. A rush of yells and a furious prompt rang over the intercom system. "You or him, scrapper."

_You or him._

_He_ was in the same exact position. _He_ was just another dog of the slums. _He_ was just an ordinary person. How could she taken his life? Fury boiled on her core as she definitely stood, her heart still beating heavily against the inside of her chest. They were deafening. The sick bastards. They came here to watch her kill. They came here to bet and gamble on _lives_. They were the gladiators. This was their coliseum. She was not born to kill men. This wasn't what she was supposed to do.

Without warning, she felt something circle her ankle. In no time flat, Haruka was looking up at the ceiling, that broken fighters white drifting slowly in the air. A hand snatched it out of the air. In the same instance, that very same hand came crashing down onto her teeth. The edges of her smile nipped at her soft lips, puncturing the skin, blood draining down into her throat. What was going on? Her vision sparked white, her face turning to the side. A dull throb tinged her temple. Rapidly blinking, she felt something heavy set itself upon her stomach.

She struggled beneath it, winded and choking when a blow was delivered to her throat. She sputtered, her eyes wide with panic. But everything was blurry. A haze of white. Desperately, Haruka grabbed at the mass on her stomach, trying to writhe out from beneath it. He had been down. She had beaten him to submission. Was this against the rules? What were the rules again? Another blow landed down hard onto her temple. Damnit. He really had to stop doing that. It was making her thoughts all jumbled. How was she supposed to think with a battering ram pummeling her face?

Oh hey. Protect the face, stupid. The thought struck her finally, her arms curling up around her face in a defensive position. He was going to have a hard time hitting her now. He certainly was trying though. His fists were knocking into her forearms, which, in turn, were turning her head from side to side. He was going to kill her. He was…She looked up at his beaten face. A smug grin was tugging at his lips. He had her down. He would live to see another day. Thank God. Praise Him. There was still hope yet.

_You or him_.

She finally got it. They didn't care about their opponents. For all he knew, she was just the sick puppy that he had to take out back and shoot right between the eyes to put it out of its misery. She was a bag of meat. Not a person. Fingers locked in her sandy blonde hair. He pulled her head up, tired of playing the game, and slammed it back down into the ground. White spots erupted into her vision. Her body began to shake. Adrenaline tore through her system. No. No. No no no. She could not leave them. She made a promise. She wasn't going to just break it. Not like this.

The pain stopped. Her inner voices ceased. She felt as though she was watching it, outside of her body. There was no control. He moved to pull her head back up again, and in that instance, she lurched forward. Mason toppled back, startled by the unexpected force. Quickly, she got up. Blood poured from the corner of her lip. Before he could get to his feet, her fingers were grasping his hair and pulling him. He yelped, trying to claw at her merciless hands. But she didn't hear it. Muscles tense. Her fingers shaking. She could feel the grease upon each and every strand. Oil. Dirt. What a filthy man. She was doing the world a favor.

One. She wrenched his white away from him again.

Two. She pulled her fist back.

Three. With all her might, her knuckles came into contact with his throat. She felt something splinter just in the slightest.

Four. Bringing her hand back, she launched it again. His flesh was being minced around her knuckles.

Five. Again, she launched at his throat. This time, she felt it collapse. He wiggled in her grasp, his fingers desperately clawing and cutting into the hand that held his hair. She wrenched back his head. The sickening snap finally pulled her out.

Mason was done. Collapsed throat would do that to a man. She let go of his hair, dropping him like he was a hot coil. He grasped at her still, his good eye beading. Veins popped up along his flesh with the strain. It was slow. And all she could do was watch in horror. Her stomach fell. She was a killer. Where was the pride in that? She had taken another mans life for fifty dollars. Was this worth it? The crowd shook the stands. Curses. Yells. Excitement. They loved the look in his eye. They loved it. She had sent him to the slaughts. That dog.

Her lip twitched as her fists clenched. He had lied to her. He'd be the next to go. Why stop now. She'd already killed one man. A dark veil settled over her face, her fury mirrored in her emerald eyes. Mr. White. What a joke. With the adrenaline still commanding her actions, the young woman wrenched open the door she had previously come out of, picked up her coat and hat and ran. She didn't want any of those other low lives to steal her clothes. It would mean death for her if that were to happen. The autumn was quite a brutal foe. Her long legs pumped, muscles straining as she made her way up the steps.

He was going to pay. She would make sure of that.

--------

"You didn't tell him?" Michiru was floored. What did he _mean_ he hadn't told the young cat?

"It may have slipped my mind, yes." The older man shrugged his shoulders helplessly, a small, indifferent smile placed upon her face. What the hell was he thinking? She crossed her arms and moved away from him, her stomach turning a little as she looked down at the body. He twitched and writhed, but he was done for. There was no way that he could survive that. Suffocation was a slow and arduous process. Could take minutes. First he would pass out. Then, well. Then he would just die. It was sort of like watching a candle being snuffed out.

There was no flicker of life in his dull, grey eyes. Nothing.

"Things like this shouldn't just _slip your mind_." Her voice was stern. Cold. Venomous. He watched as he ran his fingers through his dark hair, a charming grin replacing his smile.

"Come on, Ru baby. Don't be like that." He crossed the distance between them, his arms wrapping around her shoulders. A shudder sparked between her shoulder blades. Something twisted in her stomach. Not right now. Without a word, she moved out of his grasp and leaned over her microphone. She was sure that the young scrapper was bound to go looking for him. She caught a glimpse of the good looking man out of the corner of her eye. That and she had to clean up a certain mess before it got messier. The sooner the better, and she had seen Von Toff wander up to his box moments ago. She would just need to ask for a favor.

Mr. White opened his mouth to say something, but she threw her finger up in a motion to silence him. Flipping the switch of the mic, she spoke into it. "I'm sorry, gents, but it appears as though we're going to need to take an early inter mission tonight. Those sassy dancers should be kicking up their skirts in full swing, now, and the barman should be filling up the bottles, so go take a gander over for a few." The resounding "Aw" or angry curse made her chuckle a little. "Don't worry, fella's. The night is still young!" With that, she flipped the switch again, turning off the device.

"Von Toff is here. I'm going to call in a favor." She didn't care what he said. She didn't care what he felt. Mr. White was going to accept this favor. And he was going to like it. And he wasn't going to complain. She really wanted to punch him right now. This was low brow, even for him. Descending from the announcers booth, she made her way through the sea of men, the lively jazz catching her ears. Laughter. The smell of alcohol. The bright lights and colors. Cards. Girls. Boxing. Booze. It had everything. It certainly did.

Papers to initiate the deal. A flash of sandy blonde hair and of furious green eyes caught her for a second. People were quickly parting, the young cat running up the steps to the office that she was on route to. She looked back, noticing the older man following. They exchanged a knowing glance. "You had better set this straight," she hissed. So what if someone heard her? She was extremely angry at his cowardice at the moment. But, then again, he did this to his fighters all the time. Really. Who would sign up to kill men for money? That seemed slightly crazy. Only someone who truly had nothing else to live for. And those were few and far between.

"Yes yes." He waved her off, an irritated look set upon his face. This could be trouble. That cat, he was a loose cannon. He was pretty sure that, if given the incentive, would snuff out his life. And Mr. White rather enjoyed living. Running his fingers through his slicked hair, he began to climb the steps to his office. He hesitated before opening the door, his hand placed gently upon the handle. All inside was deathly silent. There were no foot steps. No curses. No yelling. Nothing being thrown. But he had seen the young man go in there.

Michiru stood behind him, her hands neatly clasped in front of her as she waited for him to open the door. He looked like he wasn't going to. Such a child. Rolling her eyes, she gave him a little nudge. He had to do this. Quick. Like a band aid. Finally, she heard the latch rise from the door. He stepped in, and she moved quickly after him. Making straight for the desk so she could pick up the proper documents. That husky voice startled her.

"You lied to me." Filled with ice. Her heart stopped in her chest as she sifted through the papers, trying to ignore the conversation that was erupting around her. The door slowly closed, encompassing them all in a heavy silence. This was not her fight. She should leave. But then again…she should also stay. Just in case. Incidents were never a good thing. Generally, one thing led to another and well…the rest was old hash.

"I never lied to you son," came the helpless reply. "It merely slipped my h--"

"Deceitful son of a _whore_." Haru spat. Michiru dared to look up, noticing the way blood was oozing out of the corner of his lip. Bruises, deep and dark shown brilliantly upon his temples. A cut had grazed over his eye. He had been battered. Like she hadn't known. She had to tell it how it was. Something shook her as she looked back down at the documents.

"Now, Haru, my b--"

"Don't you _dare_, speak my name, you lying coward! You think this is all fun and games? They are _poor_ men! Men that have nothing! And you think its _fun_ to pit us against each other with the intent to _murder_?" Michiru noticed the intensity of his voice rising with each word. This was not going to go over well. His fists were shaking, his skin taut over his white knuckles. Papers. Get the papers and get out. But she seemed to be having a hard time finding them. Her mind kept wandering. Sparks flew in the room. And the young cat wasn't letting Mr. White get any words in edge wise. "You son of a bitch." He started to approach, closing the distance between himself and Mr. White.

In a flash, Mr. White was behind the battered scrapper, a barrel to his sandy head. He pulled the hammer back, his eyes dark. No one talked to him like that. Anyone who had was six feet under. Michiru felt her heart stop, her sapphire eyes widening with genuine fear as she froze. Her throat was dry. No one moved. She could almost smell the bullet. Taste the smoke.

"Guess what, boy. I own you. If you want to live to see the morning, you best stop your belly aching, do you hear?" He pushed the scrappers head forward with the barrel. She saw the muscle twitch at the motion. Haru didn't say anything. But his teeth sure were clenched hard. "I can take away everything. And I will before I cut out your tongue, pull out your eyes, dismantle your body limb from limb, and shoot you in the fucking forehead. You are _mine_. If you forget that again, you remember my words." He clapped him hard over the head with the butt of his revolver, a menacing look in his eyes.

"Ru, before you go to Von Toff, see to it that this boy is cleaned up and ready for the next round." He turned his back on the two, his hand closing in around the door knob. He was going to leave.

"I don't have ti--"

"You do. And you will." It was not a demand. It was a threat. With that said, he exited, the door closing slowly. Sighing inwardly, she straightened herself up, her fingers rummaging through the stacks of papers again. Ah. Finally. Setting the needed documents aside, she moved to the young man's side, her arm upon his shoulder. She really felt bad for him. She really did. A frown tugged at her lips as he jerked his arm away from her.

"Come now, let me help you."

"No." He slowly got to his feet, his knees buckling a little. He was a little worse for wear. How could she be mad at him? Shaking her head, a smooth sigh passed her lips. Then she wouldn't talk to him. Grabbing his arm, she led him towards one of the chairs, heavily suggesting that he sit. Slowly, she knelt down in front of him, a handkerchief held delicately in her hand. Gently she dabbed at the blood that trickled from his lip. They looked soft, even if they were a little swollen.

He was so hostile. Confusing. How did he work? She really wanted to know. There was just something that was nagging at her. Something that was sending off a little bell in the back of her head. He was different. He winced, suddenly, her hand quickly recoiling. "I'm sorry. Are you alright?" She asked, her voice masking shame. She should have been more careful.

"I'm fine. Leave me alone, you're more pain than it's worth." The young man made to get up, but she stopped him, her hands on either side of him. Her eyes lit with a small amount of anger. He was such an ass. She was just trying to help. Apparently, she wasn't good enough.

"And what are you implying?" Her eyebrow twitched a little. She could feel his warm breath tickling her neck. Her stomach gave another twist.

"That you're painful to look at. It's like a cat is clawing out my eyes and a badger is ripping out my throat," his words were vehement. And they stung. Michiru stood, her exterior calm as she threw the cloth right in his face. Muscles shaking just a little, she moved to pick up her papers, a dark look in her eye.

"Go lick your own wounds, you insufferable _dog_." Quickly, before he could retort and hurt her further, she wrenched open the office door and left. Rapidly, she descended the stairs, the documents clutched tightly to her chest. What a jerk. What had she ever done to him? Nothing. That's what. Taking a deep, calming breath, she let her default smile flit over her lips. No use in letting everyone else see. A figure caught her sights. That girl. Green eyes. Tall. What was she doing. Nodding her head in polite passing, she watched her disappear out of the corner of her eye as she made her way up to the private boxes.

_308 Von Toff_

She knocked, and almost immediately, a large bald man answered. He looked down at her, his square jaw set in disinterest as he scrutinized her. Was she a threat? This small, fragile looking woman in front of him? No. He could probably snap her neck between his thumb and index finger. He didn't speak, but he moved aside. He knew who she was. He knew that there was business to be had. Nodding her head to him, Michiru moved into the room, the low hanging smoke dimming the light. She stifled a small cough, her eyes burning. Cigars. They were sweeter, sure, but they still smelled appalling.

"Welcome, Miss Kaioh. I see you have a proposition for me." The voice came from somewhere at the front of the room. He was probably sitting in his high chair, looking down at the pit. Gambling. Observing. Hoping to win.

"There seems to be a situation, Mr. Von Toff."

"Please, Miss Kaioh. Call me Alexander. With the right persuasions, any situation can be helped. Proceed."

The door closed.

--------

Okay. So she was being a jerk. She knew she was. But granted the situation, she had grounds. She had killed a man. Had a gun to her head. And had a handkerchief thrown in her face all in the span of twenty minutes. Her shoulders shook with rage. What an insolent bitch! If she wasn't a woman, she would have just taken her by the shoulders and. And. Well. Given her a good piece of her mind. Yeah. That's it. It would have been the worst tongue lashing that woman would have ever gotten.

Haruka grunted a little as she stood. She tossed the piece of discarded cloth aside. She was fine. There was nothing wrong with her. Her hands shook, her stomach turning. This was wrong. She should never have let him take her off the streets. She should never have let that pen hit the paper. Stupid. She was stupid. She should have known. And now, she was his dog. She had to do as he said. Something prickled along her spine as she walked. Her knees buckled again, but she stayed standing. She would be fine. That guy. Mason. He had really roughed her up, but alls well.

_You or him._

Is that how this world had to work? Did some one always have to sacrifice something else so that way another could be happy? If that's the way this world had to be, then she didn't want to be a part of it. '_Well, you should have thought of that sooner, you nit wit._' She shook her head, her fingers scrapping through her hair. Something had seemed off about this place. Why hadn't she trusted her gut? An image rattled her mind. Dying. Weak. Cold. They couldn't survive the winter.

Right.

This wasn't for her. This was for them. Rubbing her face, the young woman wrenched open the door, her feet finding the steps. The band was loud, the dull roar of the crowd seeming to spike her head open. This wasn't going to be pleasant. She knew it. Taking a deep breath, she let her hand slide along the rail. Every pocket. Every groove. Every little rivet. She felt all of the imperfections. But it was still smooth to the touch. Cool. And it was a little calming.

Something warm came over top her hand, causing her eyes to fly open. She looked to her left to see piercing green eyes looking back into her own. Wow. What an assertive woman. Her long brown locks were pulled back, a slight wave dancing along the curve of her neck. Her lips were drawn into a sly smirk, those red lips contrasting rather nicely against her creamy skin. It was the girl from earlier. Haruka let her cocky smirk light her features as she raised an eyebrow.

"What are you doing?" She asked, her voice edged with an underlying line of interest.

"I just wanted to feel the hands of a champion." Her voice was feminine, but with a hint of power. This girl. She knew what she wanted.

"Oh really?" Okay, she was sort of creepy.

"To get rid of the monotony of the average man." She looked over her shoulder towards a man that looked like he was about ready to have a heart attack. He looked completely broken. Haruka almost laughed at him. But. This was no matter to laugh at.

"I'm no champion. These hands are dirty."

"I can make them dirtier." Haruka stared at her for a moment, completely taken off guard. Okay, so she was really creepy. Before she could reply, the young woman moved forward, her lips close to the young woman's ear. "My name is Jordan. I'd like to get to know you, handsome." She felt those lips scrape against her ear lobe. A muscle twitched just under her eye. Generally, you have a mutual introduction before you start with the foreplay. This woman had it all backwards.

"I'm sure you would," she replied cockily. Hey, why not roll with the punches? She felt a tooth graze her skin. Yeah. She was done. Pulling herself away, Haruka winked. "Not here. Later, doll." She gave the young dancer a charming smile before she slipped her hand out from under hers.

"I'll be waiting, champ." She winked back at him. A smug grin had placed itself upon her lips. So that was her game. She was intentionally acting that way. Maybe it was just the way you were supposed to work here? She didn't seem like such a bad girl. But really. She was creepy. But pretty. Maybe she wouldn't be so bad.

"Jordan! Get back up on stage, woman!" A man called. He didn't look happy. In fact, his face looked a little red. Haruka raised an eyebrow before nodding to the young woman. A flicker up above caught her eye. She looked up. Sapphire met emerald. Horror. What was going on? Through the tint of the glass, she saw the hand snake around her wrist.

Haruka watched as she turned at the suggestion. And she was pulled back into the safety of the dark room.

--------

AN: I'm sorry. You know. How about this. I'm going to update SOMETIME during the weekend. I'll try my best to make it Saturday, but lately, my brother and sister have been coming over and disrupting my zenning process. Hahaha. So. Well. I'm sorry for another late chapter. At least it's here. I know it's moving sort of slow. But. You'll get there soon enough. So. Here it is. I hope you liked it. It was sort of hard for me to write this one since, well, last night I was sort of in this delirious state of foggy headedness. And this morning well…My grandpa is really sick, so I had to drive them into the doctors and be with him and grandma all morning/afternoon. I'm just glad I got this chapter done. With an hour to spare. So that way my head won't roll. Hahaha. OH! I started Bioshock. Hooray for me. I know. I just thought that I would let everyone know. Useless information is always good. Haha. Okay. Well. Onto replies:

**ElleJei -** I wasn't done with the fight. Hahaha. Which you know, now. But, I can see what you mean. I don't want to have Michiru narrating the fights all the time. I like to get the grim, gruesome details in there, too. But, I'm trying to censor myself, so, in a sense, I'm trying to use Michiru's narration as that aspect. If I don't censor myself (irony haha) then I'm going to have to kick the rating up to M sooner than I want. Eventually, it will get kicked up there, but I don't want to do that yet. Thanks for the input. ^^

**Swinging Cloud** - You're lucky I heart you so much. Because I was going to end this chapter on a cliffhanger too. But you know. I could have done that anyways. Because you don't read this story. Ever.

**Petiyaka** - Awww. -smashes your hope- Hahahaha. I'm just kidding.

**CoOkiE86 - **Is that better? I know I can get a little confusing, but I tried to be better about it this chapter. I refer to Haruka as a man when I'm in Michiru's point of view, simply because she doesn't know that Ruka is a girl yet. I cater to the whim of the character I'm writing to. Surly, it'll be cured in a near future chapter, so maybe it won't be as confusing. I hope it was okay. Thanks for your input.

**T.** - What? No T? WHAT?! The world has come to an end. -sadface-

Anyways. Any questions. Comments? I love reviews. They make me feel all warm and bubbly inside. So. You should leave them! And I'll get back to your concerns in the following chapter. Heart. I'll see you guys next week.


	8. Chapter 8

Chapter 8

_Once you do it, there's no turning back. Have you ever tried it? It's not hard. All you have to do is pull really hard. Wait until it snaps. Sometimes they squirm though. Those ones, they aren't too pleasurable to watch. I mean. It's not pleasurable anyways. To watch or do, I mean. Sometimes, it makes me sick. Makes me want to cry. Sometimes, I've had enough. Sometimes. But there's no turning back. Not now. There will never be an end. Have you ever tried it?_

_I have._

_It's not something you should enjoy. It's not something that I enjoy, either. But I have to do it. If I don't, there's always trouble. Trouble around every single corner. It seems to follow me, that much is true. It appears as though I'm not blessed. These aren't good times we share. Tell me. Have you ever held a barrel to a man's head? Have you ever been asked to pull that trigger? Have you ever watched their life trickle out from between the fractures? Or see their eyes roll back into their heads?_

_No?_

_Well. Consider yourself lucky._

_If I don't do it, no one else will. Trouble is always brewing. Do I like it?_

_Never._

_How could you even think such a thing? I'm not some blood crazed fiend. I'm just here. Merely for business. For the money, maybe. That's what some people think. I don't do it for the thrill, that's for sure. Who could enjoy such a thing. Not I. But you have to do what you have to do._

_Survival is the only thing that matters in this world. If you don't fight, you won't survive. Maybe that's what they're doing. Fighting. To survive. Maybe. Or maybe they really are just that cruel. Don't they feel anything? I don't know. I'm not supposed to ask those questions. To get attached is to be weak. There can never be any allowance like that. No give. No take. Just business._

_Strictly business._

_That's why I'm here. Hammer of the gun._

_Don't take things personally. I can't. If I did, I would be in a hospital right now. Funny how that works, isn't it. It doesn't matter, though. So don't think too much on it. Just go on your way. I'll be here, still. Don't worry about me. I'll be fine. Business is business. And there's nothing that can stop it._

_If I don't do it, no one else will._

--------

"I see, I see. Your situation sure is a complicated one, Miss Kaioh." Alexander Von Toff. He was a skinny man, a bit older. His head was completely bare, his eyebrows thick with grey. Wrinkles crinkled around his eyes from smiling, or maybe frowning. Perhaps worry. Which ever, they were still present. Dressed sharply in a black suit, he held his cigar idly in his hand. His glittering brown eyes were sunk deep into his skull, his skin still not yet sagging with his unknown age. All she had to know was that he was old. And his family was older. Their presence in the Ring was necessary, as well as prominent. Founders.

Old money.

She had to be careful around him. He was competition. And she didn't want to ruin a perfectly good alliance.

Michiru nodded her head, those soft locks bouncing lightly around her face. A polite smile rested against her lips as she extended the paper work towards the seated man. He grabbed them, his knuckles gnarled and twisted. Veins bulged out of his skin, the blue making his skin look ghastly. He was strong. There was nothing fragile or weak about him. But he sure reminded her of a skeleton. Sometimes, she wondered just how much he really ate.

"It would pull you out of our debt, should you do this for the company. Our shipment is to be out by dawn. Granted, it's already nightfall, you can see the haste that we need to make." There were no windows in the room. Or any, really, in the establishment. Didn't want to draw attention. But from the opening and closing of a door, one could see that the outside was completely bathed in black.

"I understand." He nodded his head, his eyes lightly dancing over the pages. Slowly, he brought a finger to his lips and pulled. Michiru glanced out the large window that over looked the pit, her stomach turning just a little. What was going on down there? Quietly, so as not to disturb the man's thoughts, she moved towards the tint. Her eyes fell upon that…that. Insufferable young man. And he was with a dancer. A _dancer_. Wow. Okay. So, she thought maybe he had a little bit more taste than that.

Apparently, she was wrong.

As much as she didn't want to admit it, her blood boiled, her fists balling just in the slightest. A lady should never show outward signs of aggression, she reminded herself. But she knew her eyes were storming. Her heart beat madly in her chest. Why should she care? This was none of her concern. Shaking her head, she tried to look away, but she found that she couldn't.

"What's so interesting down there, Miss Kaioh? Someone hold your interest?" Mr. Von Toff made his way to her side, his hand snaking around her wrist. Just as their eyes locked. She blinked passively and looked to him. He was not a stupid man. No. He looked down at the people milling all about. Many were boozing, having a few laughs. But only one set of fierce emerald eyes were fixed up. He let a small smirk fit onto his face as he pulled Michiru away.

"Ah, I see. It's that boy," he mused, his voice thick with the irony. He was just a dog. Sooner or later, he would lose. And sooner or later, he would die. Just like the rest of them. There was no rescue for _his_ type. The older man shook his head, chuckling just in the slightest.

She felt her cheeks get a little warm, but reminded herself that she was here for business. Not for casual conversations. If she were to be having these conversations, that would be wasting time. And as the saying goes _'Time is money.'_ Besides, the gamblers were chomping at the bit. They wanted to see more blood. Heh. It never ceased to amaze her. Not even in the slightest. This place. These people. They were all gonners. They just didn't know it yet. There was no redemption for them. There was no redemption for her. They were as guilty as she was.

"What is your decision, Mr. Von Toff? I fear I cannot stay for too long, for the crowd grows restless," she commented. They really were. Already, someone had been in a fight near the bar. There were going to be more and more the longer she was away. More until it all became just one huge massive brawl. And that would cost thousands of dollars in damages.

"Oh, sit down, Miss Kaioh. Stay a while! I promise I do not bite," he flashed her a toothy grin as he motioned to a chair that sat next to his own. She shook her head. Not even he knew the important role that she played. No one did. That's how it worked. See but not be seen. That's how it always was. This underhanded business. Sneaky sneaky.

"I'm afraid I cannot, sir. If it's too much to ask at the moment, then you can come find me after the turn of the hour. Until then, Mr. Von Toff." She nodded her head politely before she moved towards the door. The body guard looked down at her, his face grim. She smiled up at him, hoping to not set him off. He was a crazy one. But. At least he was quiet. He opened the door for her and she stepped out grateful to be out of his presence.

She was pretty sure that he had started to say something as she left, but the rumble and roar of the crowd had drowned everything out. It was sort of charming. The way that the muddled and mixed voices came and closed in around your ear drums. It was loud, but it wasn't painfully so. Just enough so that when you talked to someone, you had to lean in real close like. And it was even better when you were trying to ignore someone. You could just pretend like you didn't hear them and run along your merry way. And they wouldn't know the difference. Especially if you played that old "Oh, I didn't hear you. You know how loud it gets in here," card. It worked every time.

Slowly, her smile turned into a smug smirk, just at that thought. Okay, so, she had her faults. Who could really blame her? With practiced haste, the blue haired youth made her way back up to her booth, unscathed for the most part. A few drunkards had managed to slam into her and send her off balance, but it wasn't anything that was particularly unusual. Of course, some of them thought it would be fun to try and grab at her, but she would just walk on by. It happens. All the time. It used to bother her. But not so much anymore. She had lived this way for too long to really care.

There was nothing there that really mattered.

"My apologies, gents! But I'm back, and I hope you're ready for the next round, because I think that it's about time to bring them out!" It was automatic. Easy. Quick. That's how it had always been.

Her thoughts fell upon that scrapper. Those eyes. Piercing. Furious. Trapped. No. Nothing at all.

--------

Where had the night gone?

What had happened?

Everything boiled down to nothing. No where.

It couldn't have simply dissolved, could it?

Haruka looked down at her hands. She had heard those words. Countless times in her head. Echoing. Pulling. Prompting. It was like a prayer. Granted, it wasn't a very nice one, it was still there. But really. Once you kill once, it isn't so hard to do again. Sometimes, she had to take a few deep breaths before she came out of that door. But once her feet hit the sand, her mind went blank.

_You or him._

It would always haunt her. She was pretty sure that there was no way she would ever be able to sleep again. Her conscience was heavy. Laden with the guilt. It made her stomach turn. But she couldn't let that get in the way of her fighting. It only took one fraction of a mistake. That's all. And the tides would turn faster than you could blink your eyes. She had felt her face slammed into the floor many times that evening. In fact, Haruka was severely concerned whether or not her brains were leaking out of her nose yet. It sure had bled enough.

Luckily, her smile was still in tact. She had no missing teeth. She sure couldn't say that for the man that laid before her. She had packed him a good one. Made his mouth cave. She looked down at her clenched fist. Bite marks. His mouth had been open when she had delivered that blow. Blood soaked her white. Well. She wondered if that was going to be a problem. It wasn't exactly white to begin with, it had been a little dirty, but now there was blood all over it. She would have to ask about it later. Would that mean she couldn't fight anymore? Her white wasn't white. How ironic.

Right.

Her mind was drawn back into the present. The crowd was screaming and yelling, people were standing in their seats, jumping up and down excitedly. See, now they were a little more willing to bet on her. After all she had done that night. Fourth man tonight she had beat down. Those who had bet on her the first time sure were making a lot. And those who were now betting on her, were still making a lot. Glad they had such confidence in her.

Everything sounded like it was underwater. Warbely. There was no distinction between the announcers words, or the yells that echoed all around her. In a distorted reality they seemed to dwell. Twisting. Turning. Wretched. She hated it. No. Haruka abruptly shook her head to rid her thoughts of such things. Focus on the moment. The present. That's all that mattered. Hard emerald eyes looked down at the bloody man, his chest rising and falling with the strain of breathing. Sooner or later, she would be told to ease that endeavor. Probably sooner. Automatically, her fingers worked at the knot. With a blank face, she pulled the white from around his arm.

The crowd was going wild. The announcer was speaking in excited tones. Too bad she couldn't quite make it all out. She let out a sigh and closed her eyes. Everything was so confusing here. What was she doing? _What you have to._ Right. It's what she had to do. That's it. Eventually, she would get used to the idea. She hadn't even realized it. Those words.

Her eyes opened and she was already walking down that cold hallway. The only registered sound was the tap of her shoes against the hard ground. _Tap tap tap tap._ She looked at her hands. A piece of a tooth laid rooted deep into her knuckle. It was painful. Actually. Everything was painful, really. Her body was sore, bruised and beaten. What sort of place was this? She was smaller. Light weight. And they were pitting her against men three times her size. Talk about drawing the short end of the stick. She may be tall, but Haruka wasn't all that beefy. A sigh passed her lips. She wasn't even really thinking. Everything was just passing by her in a blur. The main room was stuffy. Packed. Warm. Too warm. Colors zipped by her as she made her way towards one of those metal doors.

Money.

Right. She couldn't leave without her money.

What was she doing again?

She looked to the right. Then to the left. It was dark. Cool. Damp. Oh. She was outside. Okay, that made more sense. Closing her eyes, she really just wanted to lay down and sleep. Her stomach twisted. How could she think of such a thing. Not after what. Not…Her shoulders shook, her face drained of all color. She felt as though she could be sick. Placing her palm flat against the cool surface of the building she felt as though she was going to lose the contents of her stomach.

Something flicked out of the corner of her eye. A light swung methodically in the wind, a long shadow dancing in its wake. _Shwack!_ What was that sound? Warily, the young blonde made her way towards the corner. The sound of a scuffle caught her ears. Slowly, she peeked around the corner. Wide shoulders. Dark hair. Average height. She could almost touch the seam upon his jacket. That white jacket. Her eyes widened.

"No. No no, Mr. K. Please. It was an accident, I-I-I s-s-swear!" A voice pleaded. The man moved to the side. Kneeling upon the concrete was a younger looking man. His red hair was stuck to his face, sweat glistening off of his sickly white skin. His right eye was swollen shut, a beautiful black and blue bruise beginning to appear. Haruka could see the slits under his lip where he had bitten through that meaty flesh. Blood snaked down his chin to land upon his chest. The thick liquid stained the ground beneath. He was crying. Pleading.

A soft voice drifted over the scene. "And there he goes, circling around Jeff. Will he be able to do it folks? I'm not so sure. James looks likes he's seen better days. I'm starting to doubt him." The announcer. Even through the walls, Haruka couldn't escape that voice. If she would have looked closer, she would have seen that there was definitely a small window right next to her ankle. One of the very few. But that didn't really matter. What did matter was the scene that was unfolding before her.

The pleading man watched as the other circled around behind him. His face was dark with shadow. Too bad, Haruka could pick out that white suit anywhere. Mr. White leaned in close, his hand snaking around the other mans neck. "An accident or not, Holds. It doesn't really matter. You've caused me quite a bit of trouble." His other hand fell upon his shoulder. His knuckles turned white, Holds wincing in pain. She should do something. But. This wasn't her problem. Right. She should walk away.

"B-bu-but, t-they were r-r-r-resi-resisting. B-b-broke their own damn limbs!" Something flashed in Mr. White's eyes. Haruka feared no man. But. That look. It was dark enough to make even her skin crawl.

"Broke their own limbs? BROKE THEIR OWN LIMBS?!" He yelled. Without warning, Mr. White kicked at the man's femur. Off balance, the man tumbled forward. Mr. White turned his back and began to walk towards something. His hand gripped it and pulled it to his shoulder. He was out of the swinging light, though, so Haruka could not quite tell what he had grabbed.

"So. If I pushed YOU down a fucking flight of stairs, would that mean you broke your own damn limbs?" He was back in the ring of light. Resting on his shoulder was a long wooden handle. A huge hammer head was situated at the top of it. Used to break up concrete. Or to drive heavy posts into the ground. A sludge hammer. Weighing roughly ten to thirteen pounds. Holds didn't look up at Mr. White as he spoke. What was he supposed to say? He whimpered a little. His head shook a little. He just wanted to go home.

It went up. Haruka's eyes widened. Se could feel the snap reverberate in her lungs. She could feel the broken blood vessels. She could taste his scream. Her heart stopped for a moment. Mr. White shouldered the hammer again. Shattered into a million pieces, Holds held his shoulder. Writhing in pain. Agony. He wanted to throw up. "You didn't answer my question, Holds." White with pain, the younger man turned to look up at Mr. White. His lips trembled as he searched for words. But he couldn't find any. None would come. It hurt to breathe.

She should help him.

No. This was none of her business.

"What a blow! Shattering his bones, Jeff begins to circle again. He sure is cocky today, isn't he?" The voice danced in the silence. Before it was covered up by Mr. White again.

"You are worthless to me. Look at the injuries you've inflicted upon yourself, Holds. How are you supposed to work? I guess we'll have to just…let you go. For the betterment of the company, I regret to inform you that you are no longer needed here." A cruel smile lighted his lips. The absolute terror that washed over the mans face was heartbreaking. The head of the hammer suddenly came down again, this time smashing right into his leg. He let out another yowl. Bone. Sinew. Flesh. It was all being torn and bloodied. Broken. Blunt force trauma. Only takes six pounds of pressure to break through human skin.

"Kaioh, please please give me another chance. Please. It won't happen again I promise!" He was talking fast. Almost incoherently. Through his pain, he made to grab at those white slacks. But Mr. White moved back. He didn't want to get his suit all dirty. Discarding the hammer a long revolver was now pointed at the mans head. He stepped back a few feet. He really didn't want to get blood on his suit. That shit never comes out.

"I know it won't." The shot hissed through the air, the shock making Haruka jump. The smell of a freshly fired bullet invaded her nose and mouth. Holds stopped squirming. Blood pooled from beneath his limp head. Right between the eyes. The exit wound was gaping. She couldn't stare at it. Too much matter. Too much tissue. She couldn't take it anymore. It was still pulsing. Her stomach twisted. She turned back, stumbling the way that she had come a few minutes before. Her hand was clamped tightly over her mouth. The horror of the situation finally had hit her. She was a killer. Working for another killer. How ironic. If it wasn't such a serious situation, she would have laughed. Of course. She would have laughed at a lot of things, had life not given her lemons. Her shoulders hunched forward, her free hand placed flat against the cool surface of the alley wall. A light drizzle was beginning to fall. Her head spun. Her insides squirmed. She was going to lose it. She was. No. No. She took a deep calming breath. Closing her eyes, she tried to get herself back in control. No, she was fine. There was nothing wrong. Everything was okay. Nothing had happened. This was all just a dream. And in the morning, she would just laugh it off.

She could still feel the way that first time. The twist. The snap. No. Her eyes closed even tighter. She wasn't born to kill. She wasn't a killer. But. Slowly, she took another deep breath. She had to leave. This was not making the situation any better. She had to leave. With a new found resolve, the young woman walked back inside. Her face was white, her shoulders shook, and she looked like she had just seen a ghost. But she had to do this. In order to get what they needed. Detachment was key. She nodded her head. Closing her eyes, she stood in the warmth for a moment.

Once she was certain that she could move and not look like a mental patient, she made her way back down. The bouts were almost over. Only one more fight. That's all she had to live through. She took a deep breath. That would be five fights. Two hundred dollars. Wow. That was a lot of money. She could just see it now. She would go home and they would have a nice little house. Where she would pay the rent and her mother would be safe. Her father wouldn't have to worry. And it would be happy. But the truth of the matter was. Blood money never made anyone happy. Ever. Her jaw tightened at the realization. She had just stumbled into something bad. Something. Really. Bad. Mr. White. He was not a man you should ever want to meet. Ever.

Too bad she realized it too late.

She looked at that white door. She looked down at her bloodied cloth. This was who she was, now. There was no turning back. How had she gotten here exactly? This place now felt like home. And it had only been a single night. But she had been doing this forever. And all she wanted, was for it to stop.

The door opened. For the last time that night. She didn't even look at her opponent. She didn't hear the crowd. She didn't hear the announcer. Everything was quiet around her. But chaos had taken hold in her head. Screams. Feelings. Everything. And it was that fraction of a mistake that got her into the mess. Before she could even realize it, Haruka was stumbling back towards her door. His hand was clasped tightly around the collar of her shirt. The tear made her eyes widen. What was going on? Oh yeah. She was fighting. How long had she been fighting?

She looked at the man. His face didn't appear to be bloody. So, she figured, it wasn't that long. She really wanted to go home. She didn't have the patience for this tonight. Right now. Confused. Tired. Angry. Haruka rammed her shoulder into the mans stomach. Damn him. He had just ripped her only shirt. What was she supposed to do now. He fell to the ground, his eyes wide. Winded. On his knees, she delivered a swift heel drop to the back of his neck. His eyes widened. Spit flew from his mouth. He gave a gurgled "Ack!" She wanted this to be over. Haruka wasn't even sure how long she had been in there. The announcer wasn't speaking. The crowd wasn't talking. Well. Maybe she was just imagining things. In one movement, she ripped the cloth from around the mans ankle. She didn't even wait for the prayer.

Grabbing his jaw, the young woman pulled. Her eyes were dull. Her face was blank. And with one last jerk, the man that she knew not was laying on the ground dead. She was done. Through. She didn't have to be back here for a while. She threw the white back at the man. Heh. Her shirt was rather useless too. Without thinking, she took that off as well and tossed it aside. She didn't care. What was there to see. Nothing. She had an undershirt. Wrenching open the door, she shoved her arms into her coat and made her way back up to the office.

She wanted her money. But before she could even get out of the stairwell that led down to the pit, Michiru was standing in front of her. Her eyes were wild, her breath was short. She must have ran. Haruka raised an eyebrow, her eyes still blank. She shook. The girl was too close for comfort. With every step she took back, Michiru took one forward. Until her back hit the wall. What was this girls problem?

Wait. What had happened? Had she done something wrong?

She tried to remember the fight. But couldn't. At all. It was all so confusing. Jumbled. Wrong.

The girl leaned in close, her face only inches away from her own. Her eyes were wide. Haruka continued to stare down at her. "Out of my--"

"You're a woman?" Michiru's voice was flabbergasted and shaking.

Wait. What? How did. Haruka looked down at her chest, then shrugged. Oh yeah. Shirt. Haha. Right. She stared back at Michiru, locked in a battle. Somehow. She felt she was going to lose.

--------

AN: Okay. Before anyone says it. The last fight was MEANT to be crazy confusing. Even I'm confused. Haha. So. Don't worry about it. If you hadn't guess, yet, I tend to write along the lines of the characters perspective. Haruka was confused and jumbled. So. That's why I wrote it like that. Okay. Anyways. HUZZAH. Done an hour before the end of work. That means I'm not going to get killed. Heart. I'm really really sorry about the late update, guys. I've just been so busy, lately. This weekend, we had all of my nieces and nephews over and it was my sisters birthday, so. Yeah. And. Well. My life has been going fine, for those of you that are interested. But school is approaching, so I'm starting to get a little stressed. (PS: There are these two moths that are sitting inside of the laundry room and I'm afraid to go in there because they might eat my face off, so someone needs to come over here and KILL THEM BEFORE I DIE.) Okay. Now that that's out of my system. On to replies!

**Swinging Cloud** - Hahaha. Kit. Cameo will happen eventually. Just makes me die laughing when I think about it. Hahaaaaaa.

**CoOkiE86 - **Well, I know this chapter is a little confusing, but I hope it wasn't too bad.

**T. - **Riiiight. Haha. Well, I'm glad some things finally made sense to you. That's always a plus. I hope that more things are going to start making sense to you, now that I sort of just gave you something to pick at. BUAHA. I think you'll be sort of pleased with a part of this chapter. Heart.

**Petiyaka** - Patience, young one. Patience. Haha.

Okay. I'm tired. And I need to go scrub some bathroom floors for my grandma. And my stupid dog is barking like mad, so I'm going to go before I pass out or something. Do something productive. Woo!

See you all next week!


	9. Chapter 9

Chapter 9

"I never said I wasn't." The nonchalant shrug. A sideways glance.

She never…Michiru watched her in shock. Her mouth almost dropped down when she heard those careless words. It was as if it was no big deal to her. Like this was a common every day occurrence. Well. Maybe it was. She could just see the young scrapper picking up a woman, taking her home and then having this entire conversation. It was almost comical. Yes. For a whole one night stand, perhaps, but not for something like this. A muscle leapt on her jaw as she leaned just a little closer. She could feel the young woman's breath tickling her neck. A shiver spidered down her spine.

"You can't just let people assu--"

"Let them assume! What do I care? What difference does it make?" Her voice was steely, cool. Like ice. Michiru gave a small start. Those eyes seemed to be as hard as the stone that they were cut out of.

"It makes all the difference in the world!" She fired back. Her breath was ragged, coming in short, shaken heaves. It felt as though her heart was attempting to leap from her chest, as though all the blood in her body had suddenly been drained down to her feet. Head spinning, the young violinist leaned in a little closer. The fighter, she smelled. Not a bad smell. Blood. Sweat. Dirt. An enthralling musk. Her eyes locked with the blondes. But there was nothing there. It was dull. Empty. As if she was on auto pilot. Perhaps she was. There was always a sense of duty, a cornered obligation. And it was all her fault. Michiru felt as though a sandbag had just been dropped on her chest. Tight. Constricted.

But what was she? She couldn't tell. Her emotions were running away with her, and she didn't know how to reign them back in to check. That husky voice startled her. The harsh edge cut through her like a knife. But. What had she said? The violinist gave a small, quizzical look. She didn't want to ask the young woman to repeat herself. However…

"No." Oh. That's what she had said. Michiru guessed that she had picked up on her confusion and was kind enough to repeat. How thoughtful. "I'm as good as any man. Better, even. My gender is of no concern to anyone but myself. Let them think what they want to think!" She made a motion with her hand towards the door only a few steps up from the landing. Fury boiled in her eyes, her body closing the little distance that was between their faces. Her nose brushed against the violinists as she spoke, her words vehement. Angry. Defensive. It was as if she thought the world was against her. Maybe it was. "If they're too pigheaded to bet on a woman, then damn them to hell. They're all worthless slugs anyways. I don't do this for those sweat covered mongrels. I don't do this for Mr. White." Michiru gave her a curious glance at the name. But she was already moving on. "I don't do this for the entertainment or the girls, alcohol, or pleasure! I do this for me and me alone, so don't go preaching to the choir that ain't listening, sweetheart." Haru, well. Ruka. No. Haruka. Yes. That must have been her full name. True, given name. No mix or match between. Regardless, Haruka tried to shoulder her way past the young violinist, but Michiru would have none of it. Quickly, she moved to block the scrappers way, her eyes lit with her own anger. This woman! She spoke as if she knew what was happening here. But she didn't. This cat, all she knew was the pit. How to throw a punch. She didn't know the half of it. And her ignorance was infuriating. Oh God. How much she really didn't know.

"I'm not preaching to any one. I know a hopeless case when I see it. But you don't know _anything_, Haruka!" The blonde jerked her head back a little, her eyes flashing with bafflement for a split second. Had she just. Yes. Michiru tapped the young woman's shoulder with her finger as she spoke, her eyebrows knit. "You don't know what you've done. What you've gotten yourself into! You know nothing. I tried to shove you out that door so many times, only to be defeated by my sense of loyalty to the man that brought you home. You were like a lost puppy! And just like a puppy, eventually you're going to grow _old_. HE will get bored of you. HE will put you down. Or, rather. He'll send you to the slaughts. Do you even realize what that means? Do you know what you've done here?" Haruka sputtered a little, her lip trembling just a little.

She couldn't find her words. The fighters face was white, as if she had seen a ghost. Blood stained the skin beneath her nose, her lip was swollen and her eye was beginning to bruise, a little. Her knuckles were clenched, blood daring to poke out of the abrasions that littered those hands. Long slender fingers. Strong shoulders. They shook. The realization was beginning to hit. In fact, in all of her years there, Michiru had never seen a fighter more determined. Had never seen a man go down his first night and continually kill. On occasion, they would get a man who would kill maybe twice, but his "manager" (for that's what she liked to call them) would take pity and pull them out of the bouts and wait until the shock and guilt had left. Generally, they were okay by the next week. But this young woman. She had proven herself to either be a complete psychopath, emotionally dead to the world, or she just hadn't grasped the reality of the situation.

Until now.

"Let me recap for you, cat. You've killed five people. Five people tonight. How much is he giving you for this? Twenty a pop? He could just have someone hired to blow their brains out. Hell, he could do it himself. But he doesn't. This is more fun. Don't you see? Can't you see it? Why can't you see it!" Michiru felt her eyes misting over. It was heart breaking, the way the blonde stared at her. But she wouldn't cry. She didn't care about this young woman. No more than the next fighter. She didn't. She…really. Didn't. She couldn't. There was no way. _Then why are you down here doing this, right now?_ A broken voice shook her from her thoughts.

"W-well, what happens now? The jib is up. The secrets out. Cat's out of the bag. I guess I could always dance. Or will he take me out back and put a bullet through my skull, just like that poor Holds fella?" Her voice was cracking. Fear was pouring off of her shoulders. The dam was going to break, and Michiru could feel it. It was almost there. Wait. Holds was dead? She bit her lip at the newly found information. How problematic. He couldn't just wait like a patient man. Had to go out and throw a temper tantrum like the child he was. She would have to deal with this mess later.

"The jib? The cat? No, Ruka." It felt fitting to adopt the nickname, even if it did earn her another shocked look. She was only trying to help. _Helping will get you into trouble, young lady._ She shooed the thought from her mind. The blonde raised an eyebrow.

"What?"

"No one has ever killed before they got approval from m—the announcer." She held her breath. She had almost said "me." But the young woman either didn't notice, or didn't care. Either way, it worked to her own benefit. A shudder shook her body at the memory. Brutal. Blood lust. Perhaps the young woman remembered something completely different. But the sight that she displayed before the crowd had shocked them all into silence. It's true that she had snapped his neck. But. She hadn't just gotten up to leave. Her fists had continued to pummel into his face, even after he was dead. Over and over and over again. Teeth flew. Blood spattered the surrounding area. The mans nose, it had been completely caved. She had racked out his eye. Clawed at his throat. Completely mutilated him. Maybe she was a mentally unsound psychopath after all. "They didn't see you for what you truly are. I almost didn't, either. We were all looking at what was left of him. You know. The last man you had your way with. It took the crew a little longer than four minutes and twenty three seconds to mop up that mess." She wasn't going to go into any more detail than that.

"You mean a murderer? Sure they did. They watched it over…and over…" She looked down at her hands. Cuts. Blood. A piece of a tooth. She pulled it out. They were red and swollen. And they shook. Haruka could still feel his breath. All of their breath. They were breathing right down her neck, watching her. Always with her. They would never leave, not now. She was stuck with them, chained with the guilt. Michiru watched as she stared down at her palms. She watched as the cool, quiet, quick cat slid down the wall. A small lift and break in the silence made her look away. Fresh tears finally streaked from those emerald eyes to land in her hands. Michiru knew how it was. Gently, she placed a hand upon the other woman's shoulder as she knelt, her stomach twisting just a little.

"It's better that I found you first, rather than him, you know." It was just a mere fact. She didn't expect a reply, and she didn't get one. He probably would have killed the young scrapper for 'lying' to him. Michiru would make sure that didn't happen. Maybe this was her out! Maybe this was how she was going to push the blonde out the door. Push her back to where she came from. She was definitely better off there. _But once you've killed, it gets easier. Just got to stay detached._ Her shoulders shook, her fists suddenly clenching. Haruka yelled. A cry of sheer outrage. With all her might, the young woman slammed her fist into the ground, the cool slap echoing with her voice down the well. Maybe she should leave her alone. Michiru was seriously thinking about it. But, well, if he found her and they were alone, she was sure that there would be no more Haruka. Not even a little. She would be dead. Sent to the slaughts. Another victim. She imagined it stung. Hoping that it wasn't broken, the violinist looked down at the hand. It was still tightly clenched. The blood was beginning to dry. It would stain her skin, if she wasn't careful.

Those desperate, frightened emerald eyes suddenly locked with her own. A new resolve was lying in them. Lingering. Hidden. She wasn't doing this for herself. Michiru knew that. There was no way that she was living this way, just for herself. Selfless with a selfish front. That's how she was playing this game. She was very much in control, but her eyes were a little red from the few tears that she had shed. Briskly, the young woman pawed at her tears and took a deep breath. Closing her eyes, she rested her head against the wall. She swallowed. Michiru watched her throat move. Almost. She wanted to touch it. To feel it. Feel. Her? No. She shouldn't. Couldn't. A small blush threatened to creep along her neck and burn her face, but she beat it down. She was being ridiculous.

"I want my money." Haruka seemed to have a rather one track mind. Raising an eyebrow, the violinist stood. Space. Space was good. Clearing her throat, she nodded her head. Sure, she had earned it. The blonde stood, her face twisted into a grim scowl. But she was still handsome. Wonder how that works.

"I shall accompany you, then. There is some paper work in that office that needs some attending to. If you don't mind," she added as an after thought. A polite smile was placed along her lips again. The panic that she had felt before had dissipated. Why had she panicked exactly? Because Haruka was a woman. Woman. Not a man. And women weren't supposed to go down into the pit. It caused problems. Big problems. That generally involved a lot of money and damages. She didn't need to get yelled at again.

Why did she care. It was driving her nuts. And it was making her feel a little moody.

"Whatever. Don't get in my way." Back to her cold self. Haruka successfully shouldered her way around the violinist this time, her long legs carrying her quickly up the steps. Michiru followed, her eyes trained upon the woman's back. She was handsome. How did that work? What a confusing person. With her mask in check, the young woman followed the fighter out into the open crowd. They all parted when she walked by, their eyes wide, fear slowly circulating around the building. It was quiet. Well, quiet in the sense that no one was talking. They all just stared. Never before. The band still played. But besides the constant breathing, that was the only sound. Haruka didn't seem to care.

But Michiru. She did.

It was unsettling. Made her stomach turn. Holding her breath, it felt like it took years for them to finally get to the stairs. Everyone was watching. Judging. Tension rippled between her shoulder blades. She felt like a condemned criminal. And she hadn't even done anything wrong. Ram rod straight, she continued to follow the blonde, her eyes never leaving her back. Uncomfortable. Awkward. Not fun. _ Don't show them you're afraid. They aren't even looking at you. They're more interested in the girl before you. Just don't think about it._ She had to keep reminding herself. But the eyes. They were burning into her back. Michiru could almost feel them. Another shudder.

She felt her foot go up the first step. Papers rustled and a hand closed in around her wrist. Slightly startled, the young woman looked at her assailant. Von Toff. His deep eyes were serious, a grim expression upon his face. Slipping the papers into her grasp, he nodded her head. She knew what to do. There was no need for words. There was a mutual understanding. She gave him a small smile, mouthed thank you and made her way after the looming form of the other woman. She would have to go make the pick up. Thank God. She was saved. But. Holds. No. A lady doesn't dwell in the past. So she continued to climb.

The door swung open and in they went. It seemed that they were in this room often. Her shoulders burned a little at the memory. The bruises were quite prominent and it had only been a few hours. She clutched her jacket, her arms throbbing just a little. He was going to pull a gun this time. She knew it. Well. Pull the gun, again. He was so dramatic. Almost rolling her eyes, she moved deeper into the smoky room. The lighting was dark. Shadows danced along the walls. The smell of alcohol and cigars made her eyes burn. Oh. He was furious. He only smoked and drank at the same time when he was. Her stomach twisted.

A moth to flame. This was a bad combination. Her heart pumped madly, icy daggers dragging down her spine as the first words broke the deafening silence.

--------

"You lied to me."

Haruka squared up and puffed out her chest. She wanted to seem bigger than she actually was. She wasn't afraid of this man. She wasn't afraid of no one. _Yes you are. Don't be stupid._ She was invincible. Emotionless. _Stop lying to yourself._ Holding her breath, she shook her head and closed her eyes for a brief moment. The guilt almost took over again. She felt dirty. As if she had bathed in the blood of her opponents. Which…she probably looked like she had. His blood was still warm on her knuckles. It was a rather unsettling feeling. Well. It was rather unsettling to kill a man, let alone five. Where did the bodies go…huh.

"No I didn't." Her muscles tightened. She was ready for a fight. Mr. White was looking out his window, down at the pit. They were still cleaning up from her brutality. His head snapped around, veins popping beneath his skin. But a smile still touched upon his lips. Now HE. HE was the psychopath, here.

"You come in here, weaving your web of lies, pretending to be something you're NOT! Rob me of my hard earned cash and then tell me that you weren't lying?! Typical woman. Usurper! Wretch! Bitch! I should kill you right where you stand." He advanced towards her. But Haruka would not back down. Her own anger flared, a dark hint glancing in her eyes.

"You never asked! If you were a bit more observant, you would have noticed that 'Haruka' is a woman's name. But you were too distracted by your own personal floosie," she made a motion towards Michiru. What did she care. She didn't even know the woman. But. She did feel a little bad about her words. Maybe she would apologize later. Too late to take them back now. She continued. "and your inability to bed even the simplest of women to even _think_. This is a matter of _your_ incompetence, not mine," she shot back. Locked in a death gaze with the man in white, Haruka didn't dare look when she heard the indignant sigh. She was hurt. Damn. Well. What's said is said. Maybe later. Maybe.

"You don't know who you're dealing with, _girl_!" Suddenly, Mr. White was in front of her, his hands on either of her shoulders and shoving her roughly back against the wall. There was no pain. But she did feel cool metal being pressed against the underside of her chin. He click of a hammer. Her heart suddenly stopped. No! She couldn't die, not now. She had come too far in this single night. This couldn't happen. But it was.

"Yeah, I do. A no good, dirty murderer!" She spat back, her face inches away from his own.

"You prying little leach! I should have left you in that alley to _rot_!"

"It would have been better than baking in this cesspool!"

"Your life is in my hands and you still dare to speak?" A movement behind the mans head caught her eye. Her gaze darted over his shoulder. Michiru was there, her hand gently tugging upon Mr. White's arm. She looked troubled. A crease was beginning in the middle of her forehead. She was worried. Didn't want to have another body to add to the masses that night. Her voice was quiet and calm. Maybe that's why he kept her around. She seemed to have a good head on her shoulders.

"Come, let's talk this out like adults. There's no need for that gun. Let's sit down, okay?" He jerked his arm, the barrel of the gun temporarily, yet still uncomfortably, jamming itself right into the soft side of her chin. Haruka winced just a little. But not long enough to miss his words.

"Michiru, get off of me! You've cause me enough trouble today!" She pulled on his arm again, even after his angry hiss. But this time, he moved with the momentum. His arm whipped around, the butt of the revolver clapping the young beauty right in the jaw. Mr. White turned to look at her, the barrel leveled right at the violinist. She had stumbled back with the blow, her hand now on her face. She stared, her eyes belying her calm exterior. She was petrified. Was this the first time he'd ever pointed a gun at her? Somehow, Haruka didn't think so.

"That ain't no way to treat a lady?" Now she felt bad for the girl. She was so much trouble, but she just couldn't stand by and let her get hurt. Especially after the display that had just been shown by the erratic and violent Mr. White. She sure was confused when it came to the violinist. Very very confused. What was her name? Michiru.

"Bitch ain't no lady." His eyes were huge, his hand shaking. She saw his grip tighten. Haruka's eyes widened. She didn't want the girl to die! What had she done. Only to try and calm him down. She grabbed for his wrist, wrenching it to the side. The shot rang out, a crack through the other wise silence. It shook her to the core. Made her stomach lurch. Smoke billowed from the barrel. Like a cigarette. Heart hammering, the young woman looked towards the startled violinist. A hole just next to her right foot. Her mouth was dry. Haruka looked at her. She was shaking. Visibly shaking. With one more wrench, she watched as the gun fell to the ground. Before he could do anything about it, she picked it up. Her jaw twitched. Fury boiled in her veins. Shooting a gun at a woman. How dare he.

_SLAP._ Blinking, Haruka looked up. Michiru had crossed the distance and her arm was still poised. Right across the face, a red mark was beginning to appear upon Mr. White's cheek. He looked shocked. Pulling himself out of the daze, he looked towards his assailant.

"You insufferable _child_. If you ever even _dare_ to point a gun at me again, I will bring this company down faster than you can bat an eyelash. Now _sit down and talk to your client before I make some devastating calls._" No longer was she the soft spoken musician. Or the polite young lady. No. She looked hurt. Confused. Shaken. Angry. Mr. White could only nod his head and do as he was told. He knew that she could bring everything down. And he had no power to stop it. All he had was an abusive grip upon her. She knew everything. All of the inner workings. Without her, it would all fall into ruin. How could he have been so stupid?

Humbled, Haruka also sat down, her eyes wide. Wow. She was slightly frightening. But. Wow. So there was more to the girl than just a pretty face. She swallowed a little, her green eyes being met by Mr. White's darker ones. She nodded her head, but her scowl still remained in place.

"Now. You were in a position to see Haruka's true self, correct?" She turned to Mr. White and he nodded his head. Michiru then turned to Haruka, herself. "However, most of the crowd is still under the assumption that you are a man. So, I don't see why you can't continue your relationship in the same orderly, timely fashion. Problem. Solved." She turned back to Mr. White again. "You keep her. You let her fight. You uphold your end of the contract. End of story. Give this woman her earnings for the night."

"Y-y-yes Ru." He was obviously shaken. Haruka raised an eyebrow. Was this the first time she had ever stood up for herself? Well. Maybe it was the first time he'd ever actually fired a gun at her. She did seem rather upset. Before she could really do anything, a wad was deposited in her lap. Looking down, she saw the green. A small smirk secreted itself upon her lips. But she didn't want them to see. Her heart still hammered at the complete role reverse.

"I'm sure Ru is right. So long as you keep winning, scrapper, you're welcome in these walls." He had composed himself. His face was a little less red, but he was obviously embarrassed. Being showed up by a girl, no less. He was ashamed. For being so stupid.

"Don't make any more stupid accusations and I'll come back for more," She scoffed. Crossing her arms, she didn't feel like being nice to him. She didn't like him. In fact, she didn't even want to be in these walls. They made her skin crawl. Though, the music was good. And the alcohol did smell rather refreshing. And the girls. Mm. They were really nice. But not the blood. Not the inner workings. Not the pit. Not the gambling, yelling or cheering. It wasn't for her. But she had to do this.

Taking the fist full of cash, she shoved it deep into her pocket. Swallowing the lump that was beginning in her throat, she watched as Michiru leaned in close to Mr. White's ear. She said something, quick. His face changed into something indescribable. Hot breath trickled down her spine. Something prickled on her skin. Clenching her teeth, she could feel the blood beginning to pour from her knuckles. Her head throbbed. Her stomach twisted. A ring of murders. Didn't they even care? This wasn't life or death. This was all about the money. The fame. The glory. It wasn't even as if they were…desperate. Or maybe they were. She had to keep reminding herself that there were other people out there in situations worse off than her own.

"Charles should be waiting. Go. I'll see you next week." Mr. White was done. Dismissed. He didn't want her in his presence any more. He was still furious. But there was nothing to be done now. The verdict had been reached. Standing, the young fighter made her way out the door. But she was being shadowed by someone. Annoyed, she turned to look at the musician.

"What do you want now?" Her voice was snipped, cold. She just wanted to be left alone. Was that too much to ask? Apparently, so.

"I require Charles' assistance. I will accompany you up until your home." Fake. Fake smile. Fake happiness. This girl. She was miserable. Haruka could only roll her eyes and make her way towards the door, though. How could she refuse? This was, after all, her own company. Well. Sort of. She some how got the feeling that she was in partnership with Mr. White. Maybe it was a joined company? Which ever the case, Charles was HIS driver and it was out of the kindness of HIS heart that he took her home. So. She shrugged her shoulders.

What else was she supposed to do?

The night was still. Cool. That light still swayed in the wind. Slowly, she made her way towards the corner. Looking down the alley, nothing was there. Just a dark pool. Perhaps it was rain water? No. She knew better. It wasn't rain water. But there was no body. Where had it gone? Haruka bit her lip and heaved a small sigh. What a troubling place. Was she doing the right thing. _Killing men? Right? No. Are you barking mad! Killing people isn't right!_ But she had to. It was the only way to get what she needed. Shaking her head, she continued to walk. Michiru didn't seem to make a sound. It was awkward. Tense. Should she say something? No. If she opened her mouth, she was sure to sound like a jerk.

So she decided on the other route instead. Held her breath. Count to four. And open the car door. She hadn't even realized that she was there. Standing. The click of the latch pulled her out of her thoughts. Wasn't Charles supposed to do this? No. That's fine. Door opened, she looked back at the violinist. A deep, purple mark was beginning to streak across her beautiful skin. A pang of guilt. Wow. Poor girl, she probably had to deal with Mr. White on a daily basis. Nodding her head, she motioned towards the inside of the car.

"Well. Are you going to get in, or are you just going to stand there?" Her voice was a little bit harsher than she had originally intended, but she didn't really fancy the rain that was falling. Being wet and cold was one thing if you had warm and dry clothes to change into, but a completely different thing when you didn't. The young musician looked taken aback. Yes. She was trying to be civil. Get over it. She almost just closed the door and said 'fine,' but when the girl flashed her a weak smile, she found that she couldn't.

A hand slid along her arm in a gesture of thanks. Suddenly, her skin was on fire. Her heart was hammering. She was dizzy. Blinking rapidly, once, she watched as that beauty was shielded by the rain. Frozen. What was that? Weird. Shaking her head, she looked up towards the sky and took a deep breath.

_Haruka. What have you gotten yourself into?_

The taste of blood stained her mouth.

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AN: This chapter took me for f*cking ever. Really. I've never had to trash a chapter before, but this one was just so hard for me to write. It was awful. Which is why it's another late chapter. I know. I really suck. Someone has already pointed that out to me. -sadface- You guys will just have to deal with me and my suckyness. But uh…Yeah. So. What do you guys think? Is it okay? I mean. I'm nine chapters in, and stuff. Give me questions! I want to know what you all are thinking. Because I heart you guys. Haha. Okay. I guess it's time to go to my replies.

**Swinging Cloud - **Remember that one time where you didn't read this story, even if there was a fire? Yeaaah. Good times. Good times.

**Ryoko05 - **I didn't want the crowd to find out either. That's why I did what I did. Haha. In this chapter. I was going to end up hindering my own story, if the crowd found out, so soon, anyways. Hahaha.

**Dreaded Demon of the Night - **I know what's going to happen! I'm going to go make cookies! Heart. Haha.

**Everyone Else** - I luff you guys. You make me feel so happy on the inside. Thanks for all the kind words, and I do read every single review and take them all to heart. If you guys have any questions, please, ask them.

**NOTE: Apparently, according to someone, I need to bump up the rating. So. Next chapter, I'm going to be bumping this story up to M. Sad day, I know. I won't get nearly as much feedback, but whatever. She's been bugging me to do it. And I might do it THIS chapter. But know that I will be doing it in the near future. Thanks!**

Okay. See you guys next week. Maybe actually SATURDAY, like it's supposed to be. Hahaha.


	10. Chapter 10

Chapter 10

Awkward, to say the least. The sound of a humming engine. The light patter of the falling rain. Her own shaking breath. Her jaw stung, eyes watering a little every time she opened her mouth to speak. It had already started to bruise. Like her shoulders. Like the rest of her. Just one big bruise on the apple called civilization. That's what she was. What good was she? What use? None. Michiru looked down at her folded hands, the rustling of clothes and the sound of the door shutting making her look up briefly.

It had been nice. She had been kind enough to open the door for her. Her throat was dry, her shoulders shaking. They were just two peas in a pod. Water droplets clung lightly to Haruka's blonde locks, adding a bit of glimmer to them. Her shoulders were soaked. She looked cold. But she didn't shake. Michiru made to bite the inside of her lip, but was treated with a sudden shock. Jaw grinding. Searing. Tempted to shout out a curse, she bit her tongue. She couldn't. It would all go away, soon. It was just a little tender. Sore. The young woman nodded her head inwardly. Charles looked back in his mirror, one of his old, wizened eyebrows raised. Their eyes met for a brief moment before he nodded his head.

Taking a deep breath, the young violinist let her shoulders relax and her eyes close. Perhaps it would be better to sit in the awkward silence. But. That smell. Her smell. That dark, musk. It was so alluring. Her heart began to pick up its pace as the seconds ticked by. Head spinning. She felt faint. She wanted to sleep. This life was so stressful. Why couldn't it just go away? Why did it have to be her? A sigh escaped her lips. A motion out of the corner of her eye made her jump. Piercing emerald eyes were looking down at her. She faked a smile. What? What had she done? Oh. A sigh. A lady isn't supposed to sigh. God. She was so imperfect. _That's the beauty of it, though._ Legs crossed neatly at the ankles and her hands held delicately in her lap, the dark haired beauty chanced a look at the fighter. Her lip jumped just in the slightest. Animosity. Abhorrence. Anger. What was this woman's problem? Really.

"What are you looking at?" She asked, her voice gruff. One would think that after all she had done for her, the scrapper would be a little less hostile. What was her defect? Did she really offend that much?

"You looked first, so why don't you tell me." She wasn't in a mood to be trifled with. He had tried to pull some serious garbage back there, like the spoiled brat that he was. She didn't have the patience for an unnecessarily abhorrent scrapper. Not now. She would put her in her place too, if she had to.

"I honestly wouldn't be able to tell you. It's too twisted and warped to really make any sense of." Okay, this wasn't exactly the way that Haruka wanted this to go. She was just trying to figure out how to apologize. She was just as bad as he was. An ignorant child that knew nothing. How she wished she could change that. Erase it all. And try again. Like hitting a reset button. If that could happen, life would be so much simpler. Unfortunately, such a thing doesn't exist. And _nothing_ is as simple as it seems.

That was it.

She was done being nice.

Michiru felt her face contort, a frown pulling at the edges of her lips. Her eyes were ablaze with fury, her hands clenching into tight fists. This woman knew nothing. Absolutely _nothing_ about her. Teeth gritting for just a split second, she held her breath and tried to count to ten. It wasn't going to work. She was going to lose her temper. Was she bi polar? One minute, she's holding the door open for her. The next she's insulting her. It was hot and cold. On and off. It was as if the woman didn't know how to make up her mind. Did she, or didn't she like her? How hard was it to decide. And even if she didn't, must she continually make those snide, jerky comments?

"What is your _game_, pussy cat?" The words rolled off her tongue as if they were steeped with venom. She gave the young woman an icy glare. "You think you have it so hard. You think that this world is all out to get you. You sit there and take it all with a grim face and then bite at everything that tries to come into contact with you. You are an emotional wreck. Second guessing yourself. Never always quite there. This world is moving all around you and all you can do is sit there and feel sorry for yourse--"

"I will _not_ be--"

"YES. You _will_ be!" She interrupted. A fire burned in those dark blue eyes, her heart hammering madly with the adrenaline that was coursing through her veins. She just wanted to know this woman's defect. What her problem was. She shook her head, her hands clenching tightly. "You have your problems. I can see that. You aren't what you paint yourself to be! But look around you! You shut everything out. It's as if you don't care about the rest of the world except that little bubble you were born from. I'm not going to pretend to know what's happened to you. I'm not going to pretend to know you or how to solve your problems. But _you_ shouldn't instantly assume that we are all born into privilege." Her voice was growing with intensity. Charles looked to the back seat again, his eyebrows shooting up. He would have said something, however, he knew that it was pointless. Just be quiet. That's all he had to do. Drive.

"You and your pretty face will never understand, doll. What? All you have to do to be warm and safe at night is to open your legs to any rich man. Who would turn down a good piece of flesh like you?" That was odd. Michiru almost lost her fighting edge. Simply because of sheer confusion. Was that meant to be an insult or was that, in her own round about ways, a compliment? Haruka's voice was low. A growl. She was obviously angry. Embarrassed maybe. The passing street lamps would cast her face in shadow, only giving it a moment of light. But she would have sworn that she could almost see a hint of a blush. Maybe her cheeks were flushed. She was cold, after all.

"You call me a _whore_, a _floozy._ But on what grounds do you have the right to say such things. You don't know me, Haruka! You don't even know my ever-loving _name_!" Intense eyes locked.

"Michiru."

As dark and angry as those emerald eyes were, they had a soft edge around them. The young violinist blinked. Her heart stopped. How had. When had. Okay, so she had been wrong about that one. She was only human. She was often times wrong. But. _What?_ She wanted to hear it again. Maybe it had been Charles. Maybe he had said her name and not the fighter. She gave the woman a look. Shocked, perhaps. Timid. Embarrassed. She felt like such an idiot now. She was almost on the verge of apologizing.

"But what does a name matter, anyways. You're just another hunk of flesh to them. A toy. Useless. You're wasting your time." Haruka crossed her arms over her chest, her head turning to look out the window. The rain hit the pane lightly, her reflection being warped and turned. A scowl was set heavily upon her lips. Michiru had had enough.

"A hunk of flesh that still feels, Haruka." She turned her head at the sound of her name. Michiru was hurt by her words. She didn't want to be that. "A hunk of flesh that still bleeds," she motioned to her bruised face, a small streak of blood drying on her flesh. He had capped her a good one. "A hunk of flesh that still bruises," heart hammering, she tore off her small jacket, the dark bruises on her shoulders glinting dangerously in the night. In the shape of his hands. Those strong, powerful hands. "A hunk of flesh that still cries, and laughs! That has her ups and downs! I'm not _just_ an item of desire! I'm not an object!" Her voice was shaking. She couldn't tell if she was angry or sad. Perhaps a better word for her situation would be upset. Yeah. She was upset. It encompassed all of those crazy emotions.

Something washed over the fighters face when her eyes finally drifted down to look at her arms. Something indescribable. Hidden. She swallowed. Was she going to apologize? No. That wouldn't be in her nature. She was a crass young woman. Looking out for number one. And number one only. Michiru knew that was far from the truth. But she had a reputation to uphold. She wasn't likely to break it just because of some bruises.

"I hate to break it to you, but to everyone in this world, you are." She seemed uncertain with that retort. Like she didn't really want to say it, but she couldn't help herself. Perhaps she had a touch of anti social personality disorder? That would explain her psychotic phases when she was down in the pit. Great. A serial killer. "You don't give us any other reason to think otherwise. So that's your fault. _You _paint yourself as a whore. I just call them like I see them." _Why lie? Lying only leads you into trouble. And that's the truth._ Holding her breath. Michiru stared at her. She wanted to cry. Wanted to let it all lose and to just punch the woman right in the face. But she couldn't. That would be wrong. Unladylike. Suddenly, she felt something against her palm. Smooth flesh. A sharp sting. Something echoed in her ears. Haruka's face was turned away. Michiru let her hand fall back into her lap, looking shocked. Had she just. Slowly, the young scrapper turned back around to look at the smaller woman. Shock. Hatred. Anger.

Baffled at her own audacity, Michiru brought her hand to her mouth. "F-forgive me. I don't know what came over me. It was a reflex. My deepest apologies." Why was she apologizing? That young woman had certainly done her wrong. She didn't deserve this. _Maybe you're just as ignorant as she is. _Don't speak unless you have all the facts. Don't accuse unless you have your evidence. There can't ever be an 'almost certain.' It always has to be 'positively certain.' Why was she getting so worked up? _Well, you did almost get a bullet between your eyes._ That was enough reason for someone to stress, right?

She didn't say a word, Haruka. Just sat there, passively, her eyes locked with those sapphire ones. She wasn't going to budge. But she wasn't going to give her the satisfaction of saying anything. Let the young violinist rot in her own inner turmoil and guilt. She didn't want her thanks a few days before, what would make her so certain that she would want her apologies now? She didn't want anything from this young woman. She just wanted her money. She felt smug in her own resolve. It was going to make her mad again. And, honestly, Haruka liked it. It was almost amusing. But, Michiru, she was scary. She did have a very strong temper.

The violinists eyes darkened. She didn't want anything that she had to offer. Not even a helping hand. Was she really that unsightly? That ugly on the inside? Rotten to the core. Must run in the family. Michiru bit back a frustrated sigh, the car slowly rolling to a stop. The blonde reached for the door handle, the latch unfastening. "Fine, do what you want. I hope the Slaughts _eat you alive_." She didn't mean it. But she needed to say it. Looking out her window, she saw the shack. There was no light. There was no real sturdy door. It was just three sides built up against a brick building. The ground was mud, puddles pooling on the roof, the ripples of the rain drops making music. It leaked. She was sure it smelled. And it was cold. Her stomach twisted. She looked at the young woman, an apology ready on her lips, only to find the car door slamming in her face.

This was what she was protecting?

Michiru felt her muscles tighten as the young woman walked towards the door. She made a small, rude gesture back towards the car, Michiru feeling even worse. _Should have kept your mouth shut. You know, you get yourself into a lot of trouble._ Yeah. Lot's of trouble. It seemed to just follow her.

"Where to, Miss Kaioh?" Charles looked back at her, his hands placed delicately on the steering wheel.

"To Von Toff's local warehouse. There are matters that need attending to."

Matters indeed.

--------

Blood boiling.

She knew exactly how to get right under the skin. Okay, so maybe she wasn't just a hunk of flesh. She was a manipulator and a psycho as well. Haruka shook her head, her fingers running through her hair in a frustrated attempt to take her mind off of the blue haired vixen. All she had to do was walk into a room and every man there would do her bidding. She didn't even have to try. It shouldn't be that easy. Ever. So long as she gave them what they wanted, Michiru could live a life of luxury. Didn't even have to get her hands dirty. What did she know? Nothing, apparently. Not according to Haruka. Though…she did have quite the temper. A splash of personality. That girl. She was living the life that everyone else wanted her to live. She was never herself. Ever. Maybe that's what bugged the blonde the most.

Whatever. It didn't even matter, not now. The crumble of the cars tires had already left her ears. All that was left was the sound of the rain, the squish of the mud. The chill of the wind. A cough. Moving forward, she stepped through the threshold, a small, barely glinting fire meeting her gaze when she moved in. As the meager barrier was removed from the door frame, the fire flickered and threatened to die. She wouldn't let that happen. It had probably taken a good part of an hour to get it started. Quickly, she closed the…barrier.

Looking to the right, she saw the mass of blankets. They were bunched up. A bit of grey hairs stuck out from beneath them. That's the first thing she would fix with this money. Living. Good bye shack. Hello comfortable new home. She was sure she looked worse than death. Blood spattered her clothes. Muscle and meat clung to her knuckles. Her face was pale and ghastly. Her shoulders shook. And hell. She felt as though she was going to throw up, right there. But she had to put that all aside. She had to give them hope. Had to. They were dying. And this. Her hand closed around the wad of money in her pocket. Was their life line, now.

"Oh, Haruka. Sweetie, come sit. Give your dear mom a hug." The voice was weak. Fragile. Broken. Sick. Raspy. Nodding her head in silent obedience, the young woman knelt down by the bundle of blankets. She wrapped her arms around the form, taking in the sweet scent. The comfort of a mother. Even if dirty and unbathed, it was still a sweet thing to behold. Her eyes were grey, glassy. Dark. As if she was always looking off into the distance. Seeing something else. Her lips were cracked, her face worn. But, beautiful, yet. In her prime, when she had been healthy, this woman was gorgeous. A sight to behold. And, even now, Haruka thought she was. She gave her a dazzling smile.

"I come home to find you in such good spirits. So tell me, who were you flirting with today?" The reality of the situation wasn't going to control her life. She had to be happy, for them. They were nothing, and now she was everything. She had the key to everything.

"You can tell? He was such a handsome young fella, not as handsome or cunning as you, sweetie, but--" A cough broke her sentence. Haruka's eyebrows knit up as she propped the other woman's head up. It was easier for her to breathe this way. Yeah. This would definitely be the first thing she changed. Tomorrow, if she could. If not, then this week for sure. Someone always had to be with her, though.

"I don't think I like this act of yours, son. Are you trying to steal my wife right from under my nose?" She shrugged her shoulders, not even caring to look over her shoulder. He was always sitting there. When he wasn't trying to get a job for the day, he would sit in the same spot and watch over his wife. Haruka wasn't even vaguely surprised. Gently, she placed her cool palm upon her mothers damp forehead. She was warm. That didn't shock her either. But it certainly was concerning.

"Well, you better keep a better watch on this one, then, old man. She's quite the catch and quite the looker. If I were you, I'd never let her out of my sight!" She looked over her shoulder, flashing him a grin. It was always fun. To pretend like everything was okay. Like they didn't care. Like nothing mattered. Haruka grazed her lips against her mothers crinkled forehead. They trembled. And she didn't miss a beat.

"Haruka, my eye sight may not be what it used to be, but…is that blood on your chin?" She sounded concerned. The joke was no more. The atmosphere shattered. She didn't know what to say. She shouldn't lie. Lying only brought on more trouble, and she really. Really. Didn't need anymore trouble. She pulled back and touched her lip.

"This? Oh. No. It's just--"

A gasp cut her off, then a weak hand encircled her wrist and pulled her hand towards the other woman's face. She was in for it now.

"What happened to your knuckles? You need to get this treated before it g--" A coughing fit broke off whatever she was going to say. Thank God. And may that subject be dropped forever. Nodding her head, she put her mothers head back down, gently and began to move away. Her father loomed over her. Out of all three of them, he looked the healthiest, at the moment. At least he wasn't all beat up.

"What _happened _to you?" His rough fingers grabbed her chin and moved her head this way and that. She shook her head, pulling it from his grasp. Standing, she loomed over him. If only he was hunched. He had always been tall and powerful, but ever since then, he had always slouched and was slightly bent. Still strong, though. He advanced towards her, a suspicious look in his eye.

"There was just a small incident at that job. Remember? That job I was telling you about? The one that I got so that way we can eat? And mom can get better? You know. That job." She shrugged her shoulders as if it didn't matter. Her hand closed in around that wad of cash again. Should she tell them about it? Should she show it to them? For some reason, she didn't think that would be a very good idea. Tension sparked.

"It looks as though you ran right into a train, Haruka! What are you doing there? Being a human punching bag?" _You could say that._

"No! Just, some of the equipment we move isn't very secure. Sometimes, it swings down and just pops you right in the face! Besides that, the landing can be a little rickety and, you know me, I twisted my ankle and scrapped my knuckles up trying to catch myself!" _Lies lies lies. You aren't a clumsy twit. He knows that!_ She was worried that he would see through it.

"I thought I taught you better than that, Haruka," he said, his voice sapped of all emotion. He was defeated. He felt defeated. Heavy. She saw his shoulders slump. He needed to learn how to trust her. Even if she was lying, it was because she didn't want him to get involved in any of that junk. He taught her plenty. Taught her real well. He taught her to protect the family. That family is everything. And that's what she was doing. It couldn't be his job anymore. He wasn't able.

An indignant look crossed her face as she watched him. "You taught me plenty well, old man. Just trust me. All of this is going to disappear! Everything is fine. Don't worry about me. Look. I've got something good going here, so don't get all disappointed and trying to guilt me into quitting. You should know me better than that!" She flashed him that boyish grin as she straightened herself up. "This Tenoh never quits. And that's the truth."

Their eyes locked. She was trapped in a battle. If she looked away, that would be the end of it. He would never trust her. She had to stand her ground. He had to know that he could rely upon her. "What happens when the cops come in and tell me that you died in a work related accident? What then, Haruka? That's quitting on this family too, to die like that." _The cops won't come in and tell you that. I just won't come home one night. And I won't ever return. That's what will happen._

Her stomach twisted at the thought.

"That won't happen, old man! Stop being senile. I'll just be a little more careful, that's all. Heaven forbid _you_ have to provide for mom. The poor lady might go crazy if it's just the two of you, and you know I love her too much to let that happen," she lightly replied. Keep the conversation light. Happy. Don't be moody. It never reflected well. Something dragged down her spine. Her face was white, she was shaking. She was going to lose it. What if she didn't return one night. What then? They wouldn't be able to make it. Not there. Not alone. Not without her.

_Funny. You and I. We were in a similar position._

She jumped. Slime seemingly snaked down her spin, bile rising hot in her throat. She knew what that was. Whispering into her ear. _And you killed me. And him. And three others, to boot. How do you do it?_ Fingers pressed lightly into her back, all of the color leaving her face. The room spun around her, her head growing light. Shivers shook her body. She had to get out. Food. Maybe she needed food. She was sure that her mom needed it. Keep the blood sugar up, but not too high. That would be unhealthy. Yeah. She was just hungry. That's it. Something hot seared in the palm of her hand. Metal against flesh. But there was nothing there.

"—ruka?"

Her world was upside down. This wasn't good. A tongue brushed against the back of her neck, her hair bristling a little. She was frozen with the fear. Haunting her. A weight was on her shoulders. She was panicking. Was she even breathing? Haruka couldn't tell. Fingernails pulled down her back, leaving a burning sensation in its wake. Her eye throbbed. Her knuckles screamed. But her voice remained silent. She continued to stare at the man that she called 'father.' However, she didn't see him.

"Haruka? Are you mental? Come on, kid!" His hands were on her shoulders, shaking her, trying to pull her from the daze. Her lip trembled. It was all crashing down. She had no reason to keep it together, not like on the landing. She was in a safe environment. One that she was comfortable in. And everything was coming down all at once. Those men. They had families too. They were just trying to provide. Just like her. They were like her. They didn't do it because they loved it. Right? They didn't? Or did they? Some of them sure seemed to be okay with it. Just like Holds. He wouldn't return, ever again. There would be no word to his family. Disappeared. Vanished. Taken. Off into the night. How heart breaking.

"Ken, what's wrong with her? Ken! Wake her up!" The voice shattered everything. She jumped. Looking towards the worried expression her mother wore, Haruka took a deep breath. Her face, she could feel, was hot and sticky with sweat. She had to get out. Her father looked at her, his eyes intense with concern. His hands were on her shoulders and he was trying to shake her from whatever had taken over. Well…what had taken over? Haruka couldn't say for sure. Blinking a few times, she moved back and gave him a smile.

"Haruka, what ha--"

"Nothing, I'm just hungry! I'm sure you're hungry too. I'll be back, don't decide to move within the next hour. I'll be back okay?" She was already out the door. Her voice was fast. Her heart was beating madly. There was no room for them to say anything. And she ran. The soles of her tattered shoes squelched in the mud. Water soaked the bottom of her trousers. The rain pelted her face. And for a while, it was calming. Relaxing. It was helping her clear her head. She turned to the right. Down a side alley. The squalid conditions would have made any normal human wretch. But the smell didn't invade her system. The sights, they were all a blur. All she could feel were the hot tears streaking down her cheeks. All she could see was a crimson tint. And all she could hear was her own conscience, yelling at her. Her back hit bricks. And she let herself slide down the alley wall. She sat in the mud, her shoulders shaking.

Haruka was not one to cry. Haruka was not one to feel bad or regret for what she had done. But. This Haruka was a changed one. And she knew it was wrong. With every fiber of her being. But how do you stop a run away train?

_You can't. You just go with it._

--------

_13-27 _

_VT Fuel & Oil: Where the Proud Serve_

What an arrogant title. Then again, they were all arrogant, in their own ways. They were of no exception. No exception at all. He was one of the worst, really. Michiru shook her head as she looked at the dark building. This wasn't going to be pretty. Hopefully, someone knew that she was coming. She really hated barging in unannounced and demanding silly things. Not that she was a demanding person, but sometimes, the situation called for it. Her palm still stung. She looked down at it for a brief second before a voice pulled her out of her slowly delving thoughts.

"Miss Kaioh," Charles stated simply as he opened the door for her. Oh right. She scooted slowly out of the car, her jacket held lightly in her hands. She would put it on once she was out. It was always too awkward to try in the car itself. Goosebumps pricked her skin when the rain hit, sucking all the heat and warmth that she might have had stored in her body. Quickly, she shoved her arms into the jacket and began to walk towards the small man door. The heels of her shoes made a light _tap tap_ upon the concrete walk way, accompanied nicely by the pitter of the quickly progressing down pour.

Laughter drifted to her ears. So. There were people there. Good. This wasn't a complete waste of her time. Her fingers curled around the slick brass handle as she twisted and pushed it open. They all stopped dead. A group of about four men sat around a cardboard box. Poker chips on the table. Cards face down. Each giving her a death glare.

"Hey, Tony. Does this dumb bitch look familia to ya?" He was short, small. Like a little rodent. His voice was squeaky and irritating and as far as Michiru was concerned, he was road kill. She gave him a look that stated 'Strictly business.'

"Hm. Yeah, I tink she does. Whassit. Just cin't place it." He was bigger, bald. Not like it really mattered. She wouldn't have to remember their names or faces after this night. She always hated coming here. They knew very well who she was. They just liked to give her a hard time. Sometimes. They four men stood, each eyeing her suspiciously. What could she want with them? They hadn't heard anything about her arrival.

"Ya tink she got bidness wit us?" One asked.

"Nah, boss didn't say anyting 'bout Legs here."

"She don't have papers."

Enough of the games. Sighing inwardly, Michiru gave each of them a smile and advanced. "Oh really?" She asked. She certainly did. Pulling them out from under her coat, she flashed the documents towards the men. "Now, if you gentlemen are done, I've come for some of your stock. Von Toff has already signed off on it, and I only need a few, so if you'd please pick your trousers up off the ground and go load them, I'll gladly be on my way."

They each looked at each other, a hesitant, silent conversation. They weren't used to this sort of behavior from "Legs." She really meant business. But one of them didn't get it. Adjusting his belt, he placed a hand upon his pistol (standard security procedure) and gave her a look.

"Why dontcha stay a while, Legs. Play some cards?" It wasn't meant as an offer. He was demanding it. Her jaw twitched. But she didn't let her smile fall.

"I'm afraid I cannot. Not tonight, boys. Just load it up and I'll be on my way." She really tried to sound jovial. Apologetic. But all she could feel was grease on the inside. She felt grimy. Dirty. Disgusting. The man who made the initial request stepped forward and placed an arm around her shoulders, leading the young violinist towards the makeshift table.

"I insist." She felt his nose graze against her neck. That's it. Okay. So. She had been through quite a bit today. And now this? No way. She was not going to do this, not today. She wasn't going to play these silly, little games. Michiru was on edge. Her muscles were shaking. Her stomach was lurching. And her head was going a million miles a minute. Before she knew it, she had grabbed that mans wrist, twisted it into a chicken wing, kicked his knee and had him on the ground, his own pistol in her hands and held right to his temple.

"No, I don't think you understand. I really must be on my way. So. Load. Up." Her voice was dark. Angry. Confused. Had she really just done that? _Sometimes, when you were dealing with these sorts of people, this was the only way. _She had to remind herself of that, all the time. The other three just nodded. They got it.

Taking a deep breath, she got off of the man. Slowly, she backed away. God. She hated the people he made deals with. They really didn't understand anything other than a barrel to the head. Leaning back against the side of the warehouse, Michiru waited, her slender body poised. Once again. The soft spoken young woman. Musician. Politely smiling at them as they worked.

Two worlds. Two people. That's how it had to be.

Time is money.

Indeed, it certainly is.

--------

AN: Bow chicka wow wooow. Okay. So. Michiru is a little on edge in this chapter. But I sort of like it. Sort of fun to have her beat some one. Haha. She'll be a little calmer next chapter, don't you worry. Just, if you look at the circumstances, I think a lot of people would be like that. It's perfectly reasonable. She got shot at and nearly killed and had a verbal fight with an infuriatingly handsome blonde. ._. Well. There's chapter ten. Hooray! I didn't think it was that bad. Sorry for it being late. At least it's a little longer than the others. I didn't even put everything I wanted to in it. But I decided that this was good enough. Besides, you got to see some more of the fam! And…sort of a glimpse as to a part of Michiru's life. Sort of. Not quite. Soooo. Heart. STOP! REPLY TIME:

**Swinging Cloud - **I hate you too! Heart!

**CoOkiE86 - **Well. That's a complicated question. You'll have to see why. It has to do with Michiru's background and the relationship she has with the company as well. She can have her bursts of power, like then and in this chapter, but for the most part, Michiru sort of lets things fall into place. If she fights back, then, you know, bad things happen. You'll just have to wait and see.

**T. - **I was so sad when I didn't get a review from you for chapter 8! But that's okay. Anyways. Why does Haruka hate Michiru? Well, that will also be explained, but it's not really a huge pivotal plot device. How should I put it. Haruka thinks that Michiru is fake, I suppose. It's sort of hard to explain. But like. Haruka feels that she takes things for granted. Haruka is quick to assume in this fic. She makes up stories about people, remember? She's wrong, a lot of the time, but sometimes, she isn't. It's just hard for me to word. It'll be brought up in a future chapter. No worries. Heart!

**Petiyaka****- **Hahaha. A bit of fun. That just made me think smut. Lawl. Smut.

**Sam - **Aw. Thanks! I didn't want this to be a fluffy fic. Another one of my readers actually asked me why I started to write this fic and I said that all of the fluff and crack H&M fics were driving me nuts. I wanted something real. Like. In reality, it's going to take a while for two people to _really_ become attracted to one another, you know what I mean? So. My aim was for this fic TO NOT be fluffy. But. Don't worry. The relationship is coming. Yes…yes. It is.

Okay. So. I've definitely lost some readers since I bumped this up to 'M.' It's a sad day. Oh well. So long as I have my loyal and faithful ones. I heart you guys. And everyone who reads this fic that just waits in the shadows.

Well. If you have any questions or comments, drop me a review! I always appreciate feedback. I like to know what you all think.

Until next week!

PS: Sorry for any typos. I don't have the time or the energy to go back and proofread. Ever.


	11. Chapter 11

Chapter 11

Swinging to the left, knuckles passed through her space. She could feel the force behind the blow. Near miss. Thank God. The crowd was screeching like the vultures they were. Picking off the dead carcasses of the fallen. What were they? Warriors? Fighters? Certainly not heroes. Gladiators. That's it. The ones forced into the fights. The Gladiators. And the pit? The high, concrete walls. The rusted, gnarled, wire mesh. That was their coliseum. Where their blood was spilled. Where men died. But for what? Fame? Glamour? Fortune? Greed. Avarice. It was all there. All of those sins. But where did they all fall?

Everything was whirling around her so fast. The cries and yells were like a faint buzz rattling around in a tin can. Her head pounded, which she perceived as pain. A crack. A foot connected with her ribs and she let out a mind shattering scream. Everything was numb. She looked down, blood was pooling. How had that happened? Her hands shook as she made to grab at her side. Something was out of place. What was that? Jagged. White. Dripping.

Open fracture. Her bone was protruding from her side. Skin torn. Muscle ripped. She could hardly breathe. Maybe that's what it was like. To get your lungs compressed. She knew that it should hurt, but there was only this tingling. An unreal feel to it. There was nothing. It twinged a little. Her stomach gave an uneasy wrench. She squirmed. Fingers locked in around her throat. She was pushed back against a wall, her head making a small _crack_ as it recoiled. Her eyes were wide. Was this fear? Or confusion?

Something grabbed her hand. Her fingers were wrenched back. She looked for the face. But she couldn't see it. There were no features. Just blank. Skin. Pulled taut over the average looking skull. No hair. No eyes. No mouth. No nose. Nothing. Like a blank canvas. Her assailant moved his jaw, the skin where his mouth should be, getting tighter and tighter. Her eyes widened. Stretching. Tighter and tighter. Sinew, muscle, fibers, she could hear it all. At first it reminded her of cloth. A zippered line began to form, the sound of tearing cloth echoing in her ears. A scream. His throat moved, a cry of pain and tears. From no eyes. What was this?

Finger nails broke into the back of her skin, something slipping off of her knuckles. Her white was flung into the air, caught by another. Cruel eyes stared all down at her. Judging. Her shoulders rippled, fear and panic surfacing. What was going on? She wasn't supposed to lose! She couldn't lose. There was no other alternative. There was no other option. None at all. Crack. Smoke billowed out of his new mouth. His breath was putrid. A tomb.

And that's how it should have stayed.

Crack.

She looked down at her stomach. Blood pooled more profusely. Her eyes widened with the tears. But. She didn't feel anything. What was this? She couldn't breathe. It was like she was being suffocated. She felt the pads of his fingers at her throat. She heard them echo in unison. Condemn. Like a judge passing his ruling onto a convict. Like a well versed choir. Their voices reached up to the heavens and down to the very pits of hell. They were the executioners. He was the axe. She was just another dog. Just like everyone before her. What right did she have?

Finger nails pulled at her skin, trying to part her throat. She could taste the blood. She could feel it. Her stomach turned. But where was everything she worked for? What had happened to it? Her mom? Dad? Where were they in this mess of things? Eyes glassy, she searched the crowd. There they sat, singing with that choir. She was nothing. Forgotten by everyone. Who would want a murderer for a daughter anyways? They had made it pretty clear. All hope gone.

The faceless man pulled his fist back again. And launched it.

Sweat dripped from every pour of her body.

--------

Looking for work. It was scarce and sort of hard to come by, nowadays. He waited outside of the mill in a long line full of all sorts of men. Some were tall. Some were skinny. Some were tan. Some were pale as a sheet. But they all were starving. They all needed the money. The food. They all needed the work. He was just trying to provide for his family, like he used to. Before they had taken everything away from him. Haruka was with her, today. He could trust that girl. Even though she often times came home with cuts and bruises.

It just didn't set well with him. What was she doing? What could she possibly do? How had she managed to find such a job? All of those positions had been filled. That's the impression that he had originally had, at least. Maybe not. But. Why wasn't she letting him in? _Because someone always has to be home_. Right. They both couldn't be gone at the same time. What if something were to happen? She was too weak and way to sick to take care of herself.

No one talked in these lines. Everyone else was the competition. He straightened himself up, his back giving a little grunt of protest. Ever since that day, his physical state hadn't been one hundred percent. All of the meager earnings that they made went towards her. His wife. She was way more important than any of them. She had to survive. But. Perhaps it was just their time? Maybe they should just let Haruka go. Let her out into the world. She could make a decent living. Wouldn't always have to worry about them. He let his brown eyes fall, a small frown tugging at his lips.

The morning air was cool. The sun had barely begun to rise over the horizon. Crows cawed into the dusk. He could see his own breath rising into the chilled air. His fingers were curled, his skin red. It was worth it. His bones ached. But it was worth it. If for only a few hours of good, hard labor. It was all worth it. His stomach twisted. A father should never have to ask his daughter to provide. That was supposed to be his job. For all he knew, she was selling her body. His jaw clamped. Teeth grinding. It made him sick to his stomach. Maybe she was selling herself. And her clients were just a little abusive? That would make sense. The bruises and the cuts. It all made sense. His blood boiled.

No.

Haruka wouldn't allow herself to stoop to that level. He had better faith in his daughter. Whatever she was doing, it wasn't sneaky or seedy like that. She had a sense of pride. She had a sense of morals and principles that she stuck to like glue. There was no way. Nervously, the elder Tenoh shifted, his dark eyes flitting around. The gates would be opening soon. The whistle would sound. And then the rush. Perhaps he was too old for this. He wasn't in the best condition. Not like some of the younger men. They all had families too. Some newborns, even. But. His wife.

Ken straightened himself up, his graying hair falling in front of his eyes. Ready. Set. Go. The whistle blew. It almost deafened him. The surge of the crowd was almost overbearing. He almost lost his balance. But, he stumbled his way forward. He was desperate. He needed to be the man. He had to wear the pants. Not let his daughter do it for him. He pressed his body up against the chain linked fence, his fingers gripping the wires as he called out like the rest of the men.

"Me! Please! I need the money! We're starving! Sick! Dying!"

It was almost frightening. But, in desperate times, fear seems to not exist at all. It just floats there. Like a body, lost to the tides.

A man approached the wrought iron gate, a guard already in his station. He surveyed the crowd. His hat was pulled down low over his ears, to keep them warm. His jacket must have been wool. His leather gloves were locked in around a clipboard. His jaw was ridged and sharp. Nose red, he began to push people through. One by one. Some he would push away and say "No not today." They would leave, defeated. Something came down upon his shoulder. That gloved hand. Fierce hazel eyes looked down at him. Ken almost wanted to cringe, but he did not. He would not. Standing his ground, he looked right back.

The man nodded his head and pushed him through the gates. They would take names later and give wages in a while. But that was of no concern. What mattered was the job. The smell of cedar. Oak. Pine. Trees. Lumber. A large sign was bolted across two guard stations. They would be searched. As usual. His eyes traced each letter carefully.

_JSK Lumber_

A good, strong company. It had its feet in the water a long time ago. It had been around for years. Ever since he could remember. He had gone through this process many times. With practiced steps, he made his way to the loading bay. Lift. Carry. Load. That's all he had to do. And now that he wasn't considered an enemy or the competition, his fellow workers were much more jovial to speak with. A chipper 'hello!' Or a brisk 'Good mornin!' It made a smile come to his lips. This was more like it.

The sun quickly rose, but the chill did not leave. Sweat drenched his body by the time that it was at its peak. Dragging heavy boards or carrying satchels of tools was quite a task, especially when you had to do it from one end of the work area, all the way to the other. Built upon the bay, some time was added. Had to cut and move across some rather unneeded area to avoid falling into the water. Oh well. Work was work. A shiver ripped through his spine as a conversation drifted to his ears. Normally, he would have minded his own business. Kept to himself. But not this time. The hushed words were too tempting and excited to not be aware of. He turned his back, so as not to draw attention to himself. With a pretense of work.

"Did you hear?" A younger man was leaning closer to one of his buddies.

"Hear what?"

"Bout the streets! They ain't safe in these times." _The streets are never safe._

"Well, what makes you say that? They seem just fine ta me." He leaned a little closer to his friend, his eyes getting a little shifty. Ken moved a little closer to better hear. Curiosity peaked. His eyes moved to peek out of the corner of his eye briefly. Perhaps they knew? What difference did it make. They obviously didn't care.

"Mens been disappearin! Might be a murderer on the loose!" He looked around again. Ken pretended to look preoccupied so as not to cause trouble, his eyes and hands hastily working on bundling up another satchel of materials. But he needed to know. So he kept on listening.

"Bull shit!"

"No! I ain't lyin'! The word is that he strikes in the night. Some men will go out Friday to go see the bands, and they ain't never return!" The second talked in a hushed, quiet manner. His eyes were wide with a boyish delight.

"Well, maybe they's wives are just too much?" he joked. Yeah. Maybe. The two erupted into laughter, lost in their own little joke. But something just didn't set well with Tenoh. No. He bit his lip and pulled the satchel onto his shoulder. His muscles screamed in protest, but he would be fine. All he had to do was make it till that evening. What if what they had said was true? People disappearing. He looked up into the sky a frown etched onto his face. He would have to talk to her.

Something just wasn't setting well. He just wanted to protect her! Didn't want her to get hurt. Maybe she wasn't aware of the danger. If they lost her, well. The grief would probably kill them both. He swallowed, his throat dry. No. He couldn't let her go out. Not on Friday. Not that Friday. If the killer stayed to his pattern then…Unsettled and grim, the older man went about his business.

Hindsight.

--------

She hadn't returned in an hour. Or even two. It had been four, maybe five. Just sitting in that alley, the rain pelting down and washing over her face. It was refreshing. Stung. But Haruka knew that she had a duty to uphold. That's what made her struggle back to her feet. The sound of a feeble, weak cough. The cackle of a haggled wretch. And the smell. Oh. The smell was putrid. Awful. If all other factors had been taken away, the smell alone would have pushed her out.

Regardless.

She looked down at her hands, a half eaten loaf of bread held lightly between her fingers. Worse for ware. Her knuckles were still a bit bloodied from the last week. Scabbed and caked. Her skin was sure to be rough and callused with the hard work and the beatings that they had taken. Wonder how many small hair line fractures. How many microscopic breaks were beginning to form? What did it matter. Her well being didn't matter. So long as she was alive and could provide, that's all that was needed. Still. Through out the week, she hadn't found a new home. Of course, there was this one. But. The current owners were to move out first. He said that should be in about a week. Maybe two. They were moving further north. Thinking about Canada.

Her eyes fell upon the disgustingly familiar earthen ground. The rotting and slowly collapsing walls. The small coals of their fire pit. The crumpled form of her mother. She was alright, though. She hadn't gone into any sort of shock all week. Progress! A smile danced upon her lips. Haruka was tired. She could feel it in every muscle, joint. In every movement. It seemed to sap physical energy out of her to even breathe. Her eyes slowly started to close. In truth, she hadn't been sleeping very often. Someone always had to be awake. And when her father was out, she had to be with her. Had to be awake. Always alert.

Oh well.

Her shoulders hunched forward a little, the bread lightly falling into her lap. Her head lulled forward, sleep quickly overtaking her exhausted body. A little sleep wouldn't hurt, would it? Nah. It felt so good. Her mind was relaxing. Everything was quiet. Her thoughts. Her heart. The outside. Everything. She couldn't hear anything. She couldn't see anything. It was all black. Silent. Wonderful.

"…hey…hey. HEY. HARUKA."

She wanted to swat whatever it was away. Make it disappear. What did it want with her? She was sleeping. Her eyes flew open. She was sleeping. Haruka looked around, slightly disoriented. What had happened? She replayed the events in her head, and let out and outward groan. Damn. Okay. So. She was only human. She made mistakes. A helpless smile crossed her lips as she looked up at the person shouting.

"Calm down. I was only blinking." She flashed him a marvelous grin. Her father had a hand upon her shoulder and had obviously been trying to rouse her for quite some time. He only shook her awake when she was completely passed out. Or if something was wrong. Wait. Was something wrong? Her eyes darted past the older man to the pile of blankets. The form slowly rose and fell with a light breath. She was sleeping. Good. Nothing was wrong. Or out of place. The sky was not falling and the shack had definitely not collapsed. So. Why had he woken her?

"That was definitely one long and deep blink, Haruka." He glanced at her and took a seat to her right. He smelled of sawdust. It was a nice smell. Just like freshly cut grass. Or dirt. A very earthy smell. Calming.

"You know how it is." She shrugged. A small silence fell over the two. A comfortable silence. But she could tell that there was something on his mind. Something heavy. Something bothering and eating away at him. She gave him a sideways glance, an eyebrow raised.

"I don't want you to go out anymore." She blinked. Wait what?

"I'm not going to pass up easy money like this. You wouldn't either. It's stupid to even suggest that," she countered. What was he talking about? Why now of all times?

"If something were to happen to you, Haruka, it would kill us!" It felt like she had just ran straight into a brick wall. Her stomach turned, her throat constricted. She was being twisted into a knot. Into a web. A very sticky web. And she wasn't able to get out. If only he knew that. What was she supposed to say?

"Nothing is going to happen to me," she said all too confidently. Her words seemed hollow in her ears. She shouldn't be promising anything. Not anything that she wasn't sure she could keep.

"I heard down at the mill that men are disappearing. They think a serial killer is on the loose." He looked down at his weathered hands. His skin was cracked and rough. Dirt and grease seemed to be lodged in those crevices permanently. He was worried about her. Haruka knew that. But she had to do this. It was their only shot. And she was already caught, anyways. Gently, she grabbed his hand and gave it a small squeeze. He looked up and met her gaze. Met her cool, confident, arrogant smile.

"It's going to take a lot more than some crazed mental case to bring me down, old man. I'll be fine! Who would want to mess with me, anyways? Such a cool, confident, sexy beast of a cat?" She gave him a wink. He let out a small chuckle. "Besides, I ain't heard no news of bodies showin' up."

"That's because there are none. They just up and disappear. Like phantoms. Ghosts!" Her stomach did another uncomfortable turn. She had to leave. It was time. Shrugging on her coat, she did the buttons up, her hat being pulled down low over her eyes. She gave him another smile and shoved him lightly.

"Maybe it's their wives. Maybe they just have something better to go to." She wasn't going to stay. Not any longer. She had to leave. She didn't want to get left. Whatever the case, she shrugged her shoulders again. "Don't be senile, old man. It'll get your hand in a meat grinder." It was meant as a joke, but, to her, it seemed to come out as a warning. Don't meddle. Don't go sticking your nose into things where it don't belong. With that, the young woman turned on her heel and began to walk.

To that corner.

--------

_They say sometimes, you can even hear a dog cry, if you listen close enough._

_You just got to know where to look._

--------

October 20, 1922.

Friday.

Haruka was prepared. Prepared for anything. Everything. She was going to survive. She would not just disappear. She was going to go home that night. She was going to sleep in a corner next to a small, dying flame. She was going to wake up in the morning to her mother coughing. It was going to be okay. She was going to make it home. She was going to. She was going to. She was going to. There was no other option. Her hands shook a little as the car drove on. The warehouses were towered overhead, like they tend to do. Casting everything in shadow, as usual. The sun still had a small haze over the horizon. Made the sky look as if it were on fire.

She was on fire.

Everything was bathed in a flame.

Taking a deep breath, the young woman stared out the window. The car slowly rolled to a stop. The breaks did not squeal. The body did not jump. It was a smooth, gradual occurrence. She was ready. _No._ She wasn't. The realization was unreal. It packed a more powerful punch than a four hundred pound sumo wrestler. This could be it. The last night. Her last night. Didn't it drive the others crazy? Not to know. To live or die. Either were both plausible and possible outcomes. Equal in balance. It only took one mistake. _Then you can't make mistakes. You have to be perfect._ Yeah. Perfect. She nodded her head, her fingers grabbing at her cap, then pushing back her unruly blonde hair. She would be okay. Right?

No regrets.

She stepped out of the car, nodding her head at Charles. He gave her a knowing look. Was it really that evident upon her face? Or perhaps she had some soot or dirt on her skin? Was there food stuck in her teeth? She checked with her tongue. No. Raising a small eyebrow, she stared at the older man. He never spoke. Just sat and observed. He was like a statue. An emotionless, always watching statue. He was weird. Shaking her head, she moved towards the doors. Officially, it was week two. But…really, it was week three, wasn't it. Huh.

She moved through the doors. The smells, the sounds, the colors, they were all familiar. They didn't shock or startle her. She expected them. They were _normal_. So. Then. Was this way of life normal, now? She couldn't say for certain. What did it matter? Normalcy was often times interrupted by life. Life didn't seem to like to play fair, in this game. It was such a sore loser. A smile drifted to her other wise scowling features at the thought. That was until she felt a hand snake around her arm. A body being pressed against her shoulder. Lips brushing against her ear with a soft, spoken 'Hello.'

She whirled her head, looking at the sultry vixen that clutched her close. Haruka could feel her soft flesh through her jacket. Could feel the curves, and the rise and fall of her chest with each breath. Her heart did a small double take. What was going on. She was right. This doll was a crazy bean. The way she batted her large, green eyes. Her soft, brown hair brushed against Haruka's neck. It made her feel weird. This girl was rubbing off on her. Making her feel all weird. Not in a good way either. She really really wanted to push this girl off of her and storm away, but she couldn't. That would be wrong.

Startled, sure. But not rattled. Haruka nodded her head at the young dancer, flashing her a charming and brilliant smile. "Hello." She seemed pleased with the reply. Even if it was a little delayed. What was her name again. It felt like so long ago. What…was. Her…name. _Jordan._ Oooh yeah. Jordan. People milled and moved all around them, the expressions that of disinterest. It was a common occurrence. The dancers would often times pick up men. It was part of their job description. So, no one really even seemed to care. Except Haruka, that is. She wasn't here for fun or pleasure. She wasn't here for alcohol or the girls. Strictly. Business. The young woman moved in close to her, emeralds locking with emeralds.

"I was beginning to think you didn't remember me." A whine was hot in her throat. Was that supposed to be attractive?

"Of course I remember you! How could I forget such…" Haruka allowed her eyes to trace the curve of the dancers neck. She really didn't know what to say. "…eyes." Yeah. That was safe. Eyes. How could you go wrong with eyes? Jordan stared at her, a smirk pulling at the edges of her mouth.

"Oh. Yes. My eyes." She pressed her chest a little more forcefully into the scrappers arm. She raised an eyebrow. Okay. So maybe she had given the girl the wrong impression. But. That wasn't the most pressing matter. She was supposed to get her…bout numbers. The bouts. Yes. That's what she had come here to do. To fight. The people swam all around her, her head spinning. They all were beginning to blur. Her stomach felt unsettled. Was she nervous? Perhaps. Her muscles tensed a little as she attempted to pull away from the dancer. She was talking. What was going on.

Confused, Haruka brought a hand to her temple, her eyes squeezing shut. _No regrets?_ She let her eyes open for a second. Directly in her line of sight, she saw two men. Passing a package between them. Her eyes closing again, she shook her head, trying to rid herself from the sudden sickness. _No regrets, right?_ Her eyes opened again, four drunken men downing yet another round of whiskey. One of them toppled out of his chair, passed out, stone cold. She pulled away from Jordan, who was still talking. But she couldn't hear a word the woman was saying.

_Bouts bouts bouts. Regrets? Do you have regrets?_

"I'm sorry, love. I have to go, I'll see you tonight." She could barely hear her own voice as she pulled away from Jordan. She was sure that the dancer looked rather heart broken, but what was she supposed to do? Haruka didn't care. Not right now. At least she had managed to say something before she wandered off. Fear settled in the pit of her stomach. This might be the last place she would see before her life flashed before her eyes. The last roof to be over her head. The last walls to confine her. The last words.

She was split in two. A determined part and a fearful part. They were conflicting. Confused and arguing with one another. Man, they had some choice words to say. _Yes, we have to do this. NO! We have to get out!_ Back and forth they bickered. Get the bouts. No regrets. Right? She walked, confidently up towards his door. Mr. White's door. His office. The area seemed to just melt. Everything was so out of wack. She had to calm down. Taking a deep breath, she kept her eyes closed, caught in the middle of his stair well.

"Oh, Haruka." The voice made her jump. Everything was broken. The confusion, it all calmed in that one instance. She turned around, her eyes locking with those blue ones. Her lip twitched a little, an involuntary action. It wasn't a sneer. It wasn't made out of contempt or malice. It just happened. The young woman didn't see it that way. Her features fell, her eyes hardening just a little. Right.

"Yes?" She replied. The girl obviously had something for her. Or else she wouldn't have said her name. Right? Her heart seemed to have stopped in her chest as she watched those delicate fingers pull a slip of paper out from a folder. Haruka wasn't sure what she looked like to the girl. If she looked gruff, defensive, angry. Or confused, vulnerable, afraid, like she felt.

"I've been looking for you." _So have I._

"So have I." Haruka froze. Those words were just a small whisper. Like a breath being exhaled from her lips. Had she really just said that? She was really confused. Right? She had just imagined it. But those sapphire eyes looked around perplexed. Her beautiful face was pulled down into a small frown. Her eyebrows were creased. The way they get when she was thinking.

"Excuse me?" Haruka didn't know what to say. Her mouth was open a little, a look of pure shock washed over her. Michiru. That girl. She stood, the bout sheet still in her hand. The blonde wanted nothing more than to slap a hand over her mouth, right there. She was spewing forth nonsense! Madness! Perhaps she could fix this before the violinist got the wrong impression. She wasn't looking for her. She wasn't. _No regrets._ Right?

"Well, I m--"

"YOU CHEATED ME!" The angry shriek cut off her weak, stammered sentence. Her head whipped around to look down over the railing. People were beginning to back away, startled by the sudden out burst. That's when the loud _crack_ of a bullet shattered the calm silence. The people all moved about, a small panic beginning to set in. Intensity sparked. More _cracks. _The floor level had been turned into a shooting range. Men yelled, the girls screamed. People pushed one another as the bullets started to fly.

Haruka turned to look at Michiru, her eyes alert. There was no confusion in them now. Another shot. A bullet whirled between them. Ricocheting off a metal support beam, it came right back at them. It bit deep into the wood, missing flesh. Heart now racing and pumping full of adrenaline, the blonde made her way down the stairs, grabbing the violinists wrist as she passed. _No regrets._ She wasn't going to let the poor girl get shot. She hunched over, trying to stay as low as possible.

"Stay calm. Stay low. It's a brawl. And a bloody mess," she called back over the panic. She expected the violinist to look shaken or panicked. But she found neither. Just calm, cool, collected. As if she was around this sort of stuff every day. She shook her head and muttered something about 'damages' but the rest of her words were lost to the thundering chaos. She didn't need her help. What the hell was Haruka doing? Her eyebrows creased.

Alcohol. Drugs. They made sane men mad.

Another _crack_. Hammer meeting bullet. Searing pain ripped through Haruka's side. She looked down and let out a curse.

Blood pooled.

_You could become a phantom tonight. No regrets._

--------

AN: Sorry, folks. Not much of Michiru, this week. But. That's okay. Next chapter should make up for that. I sort of had to set up the next chapter correctly, however. So. Don't EVEN worry about it. So, what did you think? I actually am sort of fond of this chapter. It's close to my heart and it's the most morbid I've been able to write in a while. So. Woo! It makes me happy. Haha. Uhhm. RIGHT! I don't know if there will be a chapter next week. I move on Friday and I start work again on Saturday. School starts on the 23rd and I don't know if I'm going to be able to have enough time to cram in a chapter next week. It'll be busy. First week is always the busiest until I adjust to my schedule. So. If I get one written, it'll be up. PROBABLY on Tuesday, because you all know me and my being late. Haha. But I'll try, guys. I really will. I left this one hanging, a little, because I need to have INCENTIVE to come back and write. So. Yell at me. Heart!

If you have any questions or comments, please drop me a review. I love hearing from you guys.

**T. - **Is who a prostitute? Michiru? I guess you'll just have to see, won't you. I certainly seem to drop a lot of hints at people using her body, don't I. Hm. Buaha. I agree with the reviews. I get so confused when I go and look at some ridiculous fluff story and compare it to my own. I mean. Good for the authors that get amazing feedback, but I need feedback too! Hahaha. Shhhareee the love!

**CoOkiE86 - **Your name is always the worst one for me to spell. I swear. Haha. Okay. Thanks for the review. I'm glad you like it. Of course Michiru could do more if she were more aggressive more often. But that's not Michiru, unfortunately. Her hands are tied behind her back. If you know what I mean.

**Swinging Cloud - **I think you say that every week. Just so you know.

**To Everyone Else - **You guys make me happy. Haha. All of your kind words. Thanks for the reviews. They help me keep with the updating, you know. SO. Heart to you guys. If you ever have questions, I'll be SURE to answer them. In roundabout ways. Heart.

Well. That's it, I think. I'll (hopefully) see you all next week! Till then!


	12. Chapter 12

Chapter 12

Hysteria. If she could describe the scene unfolding before her, that's the word Haruka would have picked. It was like a sea of bodies, caught in a tempest. Screams were silenced by the cracks of bullets. Blood stained the filthy floor. Who was killing who? Wait what was going on? Where was the original feud? Lost in the tides. That's where. Now they were all just looking out for themselves. Fighting like savages to slip away with their mangy lives. The girls had taken cover backstage. The band was scattered. The sound of bottles bursting and crackling to the panic stricken floor struck through the chaos like a gong. What a waste of good alcohol.

Crouch low and move fast.

It's all she could think to do. Her eyes scanned for a way out. Where was it safe? Outside. Away from this mess. Naturally. Where else? Upstairs, maybe, in the catwalks. Her eyes fell upon the loose shots, bullets whizzing up and out, bouncing off metal and daring to bite deep into wood. No, they would be riddled with holes by the time they got half way up the steps. The ring? The rusted wire fence made sure that was impossible. Not only, it was at least a good ten foot drop. Where else. Frantically she thought. A man grunted and fell before her, his hand clenching his chest. Blood stained his white shirt, seeping out to pool at her feet. His eyes shook. His throat bubbled. He stared at her. Her heart caught in her throat at the notion. Everything was moving so fast. Pretty soon there would be no one left.

_Down._

She caught a glimpse of that door. Brilliant.

Tugging hard on the violinists wrist, Haruka made for that door. It was their life line. Their out. Hopefully no one else had taken it. Blurred vision, shaky breath, pain in her chest. Her shoulder shook as she made her way towards the door. Maybe it had snaked its way in deeper than she had initially anticipated. Was this all delirium. Perhaps she was still back with her mother, sleeping. She shook her head, her other hand held out in front of her as they approached the steel door. It seemed to take an eternity. But at least it was quiet, now. Her ears were ringing. Sometimes she thought that she could make out the sound of a scream, or maybe a bullet, but she wasn't really sure. The scrapper had one goal in mind. One care in the world. And what was it? To survive. It was a tremendous relief when she felt that door slip open and reveal the infinite possibilities that lay beyond. _Not a phantom. Not tonight._

Adrenaline coursed through her veins. She didn't hear the other girl, calling out. Didn't hear the door slam tight behind them. Didn't hear the sounds of their footsteps echoing as they moved down into the stairwell. She didn't hear any of it. What if they were going to come after them? It was her or them after all. Dog eat dog. And they were after her blood. They definitely were. She could feel the putrid breath, could smell the smoke of the barrel. Could feel the bite of the bullet in her side. He was coming to get her. Who? Did she know? Maybe. Maybe not.

"Stop!"

Those emerald eyes blinked. Furrowing her eyebrows, Haruka looked around. They were in the Underbelly. Facing that white door. The rows and rows of iron cells (for that's what she pictured them as on the inside) looming dangerously close. What was on the other side. She tilted her head a little, her hand slowly reaching out to the closest one. Before she was smashed back into reality. Michiru twisted her hand from her vice like grip. Then, and only then, did she realize that she had been sweating. Her fingers felt slick and clammy. Cool. Puffy. She felt disgusting. Beads of some sort of liquid rolled down her neck and spine. Her eyes, she felt, were wild. Looking every which way. So much for staying calm. What had _happened_? Confusion washed over her face suddenly. She looked at the young woman before her.

"Sorry, I guess my instincts got carried away," she apologized. Clearing her throat, she ran her shaking digits through her hair. As she moved, her side twinged just a bit. Noticeably, sure, but pain wasn't anything new to her. That much she could say with certainty. Folding her arms, Haruka locked gazes with the beauty before her. She looked confused. Not frightened. But upset. Had she been hurt? "Were you hurt?" The words felt foreign to her lips. Had she really just said that? Gently, she touched the pads of her dirty fingers to her trembling lips. Everything was screaming at her. Every nerve. Every unspoken thought. The scrapper could feel her eyes darting all around, like a mental patient diagnosed with paranoia. In the times she felt calm, they would lock with those dark blues. But almost instantaneously, she would look away again. Her breathing was light. Fast. As if she had just ran a three hundred mile marathon without stopping. What a rush.

She felt a hand close in around her bicep. Was it her own? Haruka looked down. No. Those delicate hands grasped the cloth. It was the only thing that was holding her down. Keeping her grounded. Soft. Creamy skin. Like silk. 'You have to pull yourself together, Haruka,' she reminded herself silently. The waves of panic had a way of pushing emotions upon her. Emotions that would otherwise stay buried and forgotten. Had Michiru said anything? She couldn't, for the life of her, remember. Her shoulders hit the wall while her eyes closed. Remember remember. Why couldn't she, for the life of her, remember? Her eyes opened again. She was okay.

"Did you say something?" Her voice was shaky, but definitely better.

"I said that I was fine, thank you. I was more worried about you though. You look like you've seen a ghost, are _you_ alright?" There was a crease between the young violinists eyebrows. She looked so alluring. Haruka moved herself a little closer, examining the young woman's features with painstaking scrutiny.

"Me?" She scoffed. It was a reflex. Her heart beat madly in her chest. "I've just been shot in the side, how do you think I am? I'm bloody fantastic, _really_." There she went. Running her mouth again. There was something about this place that made her edgy. Like a cornered dog. Give her a little bit of sympathy and she'd bite your hand off, that one. The warmth left her arm. Those calloused fingers sliding lightly along her skin, leaving a burning trail in its wake. _No. Don't go._ Her mind was foggy. What was the matter with her?

"I see your spirits have resumed. I don't have time for your games, there are some obvious matters that need my attention before they get too out of hand. If you're certainly done with your quips, I'll just be going. I'm sure you're accustomed to licking your wounds, so be a good little kitty cat and crawl back into the hole you were born from." Arms crossed, Michiru gave her a sideways glance. Cool. Hard. Her eyes were like liquid steel. The blonde wanted, in the worst way, to make her stay. Even if it resulted in a fight. Well, a worse one than it was already starting out to be.

She didn't say anything. Didn't move. Didn't breathe. Couldn't even if she wanted to. What was this? _What?_ Frustration began to bubble. Her fists clenched, her lip twitching just in the slightest. The blue haired girl made to turn. What was she? An ice queen? _Well, you _did_ start it, you know._

"Whatever. Go crawl back to that fat bastard, you filthy whore. I'm sure he's waiting for his desserts. Oh, and make sure to not let your raging appetite go too out of control, he might have a heart attack and die. Wouldn't want that." Did that even make sense? It sort of just fell out of her mouth like that. _Good one Haruka. Real classy._

"Really? That's the best you can come up with? Just what, exactly, are you trying to prove, Haruka?" She turned to face her again, her hands grasping her own forearms. If looks could kill, Haruka was certain she would have been dead ten times over. God, she really was stupid. She opened her mouth to try and come back, but the question hung heavily upon her shoulders. What exactly was she trying to prove?

"I'm not trying to prove anything! I'm ju--"

"Exactly! Your words are nothing but hurtful quips that are anything but true. You are just proving yourself to be a child. A babe that hasn't yet fully realized the world around her. You pretend to know everything, but you don't, Haruka! So stop pretending and actually DO something with yourself. You can't even protect yourself! You have to stoop as low as beating another mans brains out of his head in order to survive! Why the _fuck_ did you walk in those doors? Did you honestly believe that everything would just be given to you? Ever since you came around, things have been going wrong. And you know who has to deal with it? ME. You cause me _trouble_, Haruka! I dare to say that I hate you. I hate you. You are the most pigheaded, cocky, stubborn bastard that I have ever had the displeasure to meet, and trust me, I've met a lot of assholes. But you are by far the worst of them," Michiru hissed. Her words were like venom. Dripping with ice and malice. Did she really hate her? Haruka felt her heart twist a little. But, she was right. She was exactly like a wounded animal. And the way she figured, since the fire was already started, why not just add to it?

Michiru grit her teeth, her heart pumping madly in her chest. Anger radiated off of her. Had she really just said that? Did she hate her? It was maddening. Haruka moved forward, her eyes dark, her fists balled. The violinist took a step back for every step that the scrapper before her took. Those emerald eyes were stormy. Frustration and a hint of hurt etched her ridged iris. Her teeth were locked, her face a little red. A pang ran through Michiru's heart as her eyes graced the healing bruises and cuts all along the young woman's face. Why wouldn't she let anyone in? She felt her shoulders hit the opposite wall. A shiver rolled down her spine when she watched the young woman move dangerously close to her, their noses almost touching. Heart in her throat, Michiru could only stare back, hoping that the other would back down.

"Don't you _dare_ talk to me like that, Michiru, or else--"

"Or else _what_, Haruka? Are you going to hit me? Are you going to beat me senseless and show me who's right and who's wrong?" Her words were fast, her tongue quick. Haruka had not expected it. Her fists tightened, her right hand raised. She wanted to slap her. But she couldn't. She just couldn't. With a frustrated cry, Haruka slammed both of her fists into the wall behind her cornered violinist. She leaned in just a bit closer, her eyes dangerous. A snarl ripped itself from her gnashing teeth as she began to speak.

"You don't know anything either, woman. You tell me to stop pretending, well, I think you need to have a small reality check. Get your head out of your ass and stop pretending to be that fairy princess. You aren't fooling anyone. And if you are, then they are a damned fool for believing you. Why would any honest girl work around a place like this? Why would a fairy princess grace the lowly dredge of the working world with her presence? Is it because life at home isn't going so well?"

"Stop it."

"Is it because the husband comes home, drunk off his ass and pummels the wife and kids?"

"Stop it."

"Is it because daddy's little girl needs to feel a real man between her legs?"

"STOP IT!"

"Or maybe it's because she can't deal with the reality of her situation? Maybe it's because she allows herself to be controlled and manipulated into believing that everything is okay. Maybe she's just as guilty as the fucking asshole who bets on lives for _fun_. Maybe she hopes to get closer to him. Maybe he's the real man. The one she really wants to--"

"STOP IT!" Skin against skin. Haruka's head suddenly whipped around, a crack filling her ears. Slowly, dangerously, she looked back at the young woman before her. Her eyes were filled with crystalline tears, anger and grief surging off of her shoulders as she slowly brought her hand back down.

"So that's it? Well, let me tell you something sweetheart, that man up there? He doesn't care about you. He doesn't care about anyone but himself. Do yourself a favor and just put a bullet between your eyes before he does." _Stop it, Haruka. What are you doing?_

"I hate you." And the dam finally broke.

"Yeah, well I HATE YOU TOO, MICHIRU! I hate _everything_ about you! I hate the way you look at him. I hate the way you look at me. And the way you speak. And the way you allow yourself to be pushed around by everyone except for me. I can't force you to do a damn thing, and it's infuriating. I hate the way you make my heart beat and the way you make me feel. I hate the way I think about you and the way I want to wipe away your tears right now. I fucking hate you. And I don't even know why I can't just bring myself to leave you alone! I hate the way we fight. I hate it when you slap me. I hate this. All of this. And I especially. Especially hate the way you make me want to apologize for everything I've done." A silence fell over them. Haruka's shoulders slumped a little, her side beginning to burn. She felt warm. Ashamed. Upset. Her eyes still burned with fire. But she had quelled the tears, at least. _Great going, asshole. At least you know you can fix what you broke, on occasion._

The violinists breath was warm against her neck, tickling it lightly. Alluring. Intoxicating. Slowly, Haruka leaned closer, her eyes never leaving the violinists. She could almost feel those lips. Could almost taste her. "I hate you." A spell had been cast. All caution thrown to the wind. And for what? Haruka didn't care. She wanted this more badly than she wanted to survive. Maybe she was suffering from delirium. Who knew. A spark passed between their lips, that spark that happens right before they meet. A shiver rippled between her shoulders. A sigh almost shook her chest. But she held it in. This close, she could smell her. The sweet, complex fragrance. Refreshing like the ocean breeze. She was almost there.

_POP! SLAM!_

"BY ORDER OF THE MARSHALL, ALL OCCUPANTS ARE TO CEASE AND DESIST, LIE FACE DOWN ON THE GROUND AND PUT THEIR HANDS BEHIND THEIR HEAD!!"

The spell was broken.

Haruka jumped, her eyes blinking wildly, a blush daring to creep up along her neck when she realized what she was doing. All she felt was embarrassed. Had the girl even wanted a kiss? No. Who would want one from a foul mouthed dog was her bitter thought. Hiding her eyes, Haruka didn't even dare look at the violinists face. She was probably horrified. _Stupid stupid Haruka!! STUPID._ She brought a palm to her forehead as she pushed herself off of the wall. She made to move. Her breath caught in her throat.

Where had all her air gone?

--------

Why had she done that?

Michiru couldn't reign in her beating heart. They had almost. She had almost. Wow. Her head was fuzzy, dizzy. Everything was spinning around in a circle. Weren't they just yelling at each other? Didn't Haruka hate her? And didn't she, in return, hate Haruka? She had thought so. But she would have never guessed, in a million years, what was to come next. As soon as the scrapper pushed herself up and away from the wall, her body instantly missed and craved the heat. Her heart was being pulled. Her lips were buzzing. Hands shaking. She was being irrational. Unreasonable. It was all in her imagination. Perhaps she had caught a cold and it was just now deciding to make itself known. Hot, yet cold at the same time. Nervous. Was she nervous? Or maybe she was still riled up from the fight. Who knew.

Suddenly, Michiru found her hand grasping the fighters wrist and pulling. It was like she was on the outside, watching. It was just happening. Instinct. Her fingers locked, her other hand shot up, grabbed Haruka's blonde locks and pulled. She needed to be closer. If she wasn't, she felt she might sink into the earth. Wait. _What am I doing?_ Their lips met, finally. Her muscles were tense, her heart shaking her chest. Knees buckling, she refused to let go of the scrapper. This was her moment and she needed to get it done and over with. She needed to feel those soft lips. And she did. She needed to feel those golden strands fall between her fingers. She did. There was a fire in her stomach. And it needed to be quelled. A passion. She didn't even care if Haruka wanted this or not. She had to get it out and away before it became a problem. She couldn't allow herself to be fighting this every time she saw the other woman. She couldn't. This was just so it was all out. And then they could move on.

Powerful arms wrapped around her, fingers pushing through her own hair, a hand resting on her hip. Another jolt shook her system. Her throat was dry. What was she doing? She continued to ask herself that, even as she allowed their lips to slip together. But, it was all so. So. No. This was just to get it out and done with. This wasn't anything. But she did very much like the way Haruka held her. And tugged on her hair. And pulled a finger down her spine. And…no! Wait. Why? No..why? She had taken a bite of the lotus and now, she was forgetting. What was she doing again?

_CRACK! SLAM!_

"ANY REMAINING OCCUPANTS ARE TO RETURN TO THE LOBBY IMMEDIATELY!"

Everything came rushing back to her suddenly. Pulling back, as if she had been burned, Michiru looked at Haruka. Her eyes were wide, a blush streaking her cheeks. Eyebrows furrowing, the young violinist turned on her heel and bolted. She had to get upstairs. Before the authorities got a hold of her. She had to get of that scrappers presence. It drove her mad. And she wasn't even sure what kind of 'mad' it truly drove her! It was all so convoluted and confusing. Everything about her. She took the steps two at a time and burst through the steel door, her arms raised. The authorities looked at her, a barrel leveled right to her head.

She gave a helpless smile, her palms facing them. A mutual understanding passed between them all. Taking a deep breath, she began to move again. Towards the office. Everything was still spinning. Her eyes were trained upon the ground. She didn't even want to know how much damage had been done. Would they be able to open next week? Or would there be a lull in the income and would they have to wait another two or three weeks before the operation was back up and running? Either way, this was certainly a problematic situation. She brought a hand to her lips. They still tasted like her. Inhaling sharply, she shook her head. Bad idea. She had to put that aside, for now, and deal with it later. It could not be her primary concern.

"Have you retained custody of the suspects, marshal?" She turned to look at an older man, his long coat covered with dirt. He was about average height, his worries bearing heavily upon his drooping shoulders. He had a white mustache and the biggest brown eyes you'd ever see. He nodded his head. He looked tired.

"We just wanted to make sure there were no other trouble makers out there before we left the premises, Miss Kaioh," his voice mirrored the way he looked. Exhausted.

"You have our thanks." She nodded her head. A hand snaked beneath her elbow and pulled. Honestly, she half expected it to be Haruka. Much to her chagrin, however, it was not. Van Toff. And he didn't look too pleased. "Excuse me if you would gentlemen," she nodded at the officers and followed the older man. He was ridged. She could tell that he was angry. Swallowing a little, she followed. What could it be this time? Hopefully it wasn't some silly request on his part.

When they were mostly alone, save a few dead bodies, or a few men that had passed out from their injuries, he turned to her. His eyes were sunken deep into his skull, casting shadows over them. His forehead wrinkled as he pulled the young woman closer. She looked down at his hand. "If you would unhand me, Mr. Van Toff, I would gladly appreciate it." Her lady like smile was back in place. Perfect, flawless on the outside. That was hardly the case on the inside, unfortunately.

"Of course, of course." He was holding back his fury, but he did let go of her. He smoothed out his slightly wrinkled suit and took a deep breath.

"What is the matter?" She asked, cautiously.

"The matter is, my dear, the way you handled and treated my men. I expect respect from you and they are an extension of me. The way you displayed yourself in front of them was a blatant disregard to the proper courtesy which is reflected upon you and your family. Need I remind you that I could have you all ruined in a heart beat?" He was threatening her. And she didn't like the way that he was doing it. She sighed inwardly, put on an apologetic face and took his hand in hers.

"You have my deepest apologies, Mr. Van Toff. However, what your men failed to recall was that they were the offenders, not me. I simply reacted. Tell me, you would also react if a man was advancing on you, wanting you to take your clothes off. I repeatedly told them no. I had no time to dilly dally with them. I'm sorry that their incompetence got in the way of the truth. If you would forgive me." She stroked his hand once then kissed it. A revolting feeling surged in her stomach. His skin was rough, worn with age. A shiver raced down her spine when she felt a finger trace down the back of her neck.

"All's well, dear. Just know that you owe me a proper apology soon." A snaky smile. And all she could do was nod her head and say, "Of course." Something swelled up in her stomach. Perhaps it was her own animal. Trying to claw its way out. But after you've been caged for long enough, you just tend to forget. Freedom? What's that.

"I'll bid you farewell until our paths happen to cross once again." He placed a hand upon her shoulder, his face turning into her ear. "I'll be waiting."

And nothing was ever more true.

When you're born in a cage, you don't know anything different. "RU. RU?! Goddamnit where is that girl. RU?!?!" The shouts shook her to the very core. Looking down, the young woman stared at her feet. What a mess. What a mess indeed.

--------

AN: . So. As you can see, my next week is six months later. Please don't hate me. I'm sorrryyyy! See! I told you guys that I need to have a STRICT timeline because if I didn't have one, then I would never get anything done! I said that! And then my life exploded! I mean, with classes and a new girlfriend and room mates that are always distracting me, I find it hard enough to work on my homework, let alone writing for fun. x_x But it's okay! Look! I came back. And I'm going to fall back into a routine. Every Thursday for this quarter. I don't have class on Thursdays. But I do work. Lamesauce. So what's been happening with me…I've been playing Pokemon. And I've beaten more games than I can count in the time I went on a hiatus till now. But don't even worry about it guys. I won't let you down. I always come back. I'm like herpes!

And I just wanted to say: If you really want to punch me in the throat, you can. It'll all be okay. See, I'm back. Okay. Since it's been so long, I'm not going to reply to last chapter's reviews. But I will reply to this chapters NEXT WEEK WHEN I HAVE THE UPDATE. Right. Okay. So. Send them in.

I heart you guys.

Till next week.


	13. Chapter 13

Opening Note: Okay. I've been a really bad girl. And it turns out that my next week turns into two years, but…like…I graduated with my degree in writing. Isn't that fun and exciting? Which means now…my story will be even better even if there was a fire and stuff and I have a fancy piece of paper that says that I'm an expert now. :D

I'm sorry. And I've missed all of my reviewers and spending sleepless nights mulling over what would become of my corpse should I just give up. And I haven't given up, I just got lazy. Or busy writing a billion original short stories amongst other things. I intend upon taking this fic eventually and rewriting it, so…I haven't abandoned anyone.

**WARNING:** There are explicit sexual advances in this chapter. I do not condone these sorts of actions in any way (it's not yuri…I like yuri. It's good). If you cannot handle these sorts of things, then please don't read on. (This is rated M for a reason…)

**Chapter 13**

It was an ocean of soft lips and caresses. Of tongues against her burnt flesh and promises held by dark blue eyes. A beat pulsed through the scrappers veins, pricking her skin with electrified explosions, her fingers tangling themselves into gorgeous locks of sea. A haze misted over her eyes, mind shutting itself off, her thoughts no longer her own. Haruka desired something she couldn't have. Her fingers twisted around the other woman's waist, fingers knotting themselves in folds of threads and fabric. Her ribs burned, blood between her fingers, leaving a slick trail of crimson vipers down her faintly bruised flesh.

She pushed against the other woman hotly, the ache in her side driving her mind blank. Simply gone. There was a dull, distant noise of something indescribable. What did it matter to her? The taste of salt and an ocean breeze was on her tongue, against the exposed flesh of her neck, cooling the pulse that leapt at her throat.

What was she doing?

She traced a blood soaked finger against Michuru's outer thigh, leaving a trail of madness in its wake. A hollowness swelled inside of the caverns of her chest, threatening to collapse her lungs upon themselves. What was she doing? She couldn't ask the question enough. But no matter how hard she racked her brain for the answer, Haruka continually came up short. There was no rhyme or reason. She hated the musician. Hated her. Hated her. She bit down on her lip and tugged. Hated her.

A clang bounced through the empty corridor. The sound of a rusty hinge grating against itself rattling itself in her ears. She jerked back, Michiru's eyes glazed with lust. But riddled with terror. Haruka opened her mouth to speak, but she had no words. Nothing could accompany the sound of the musician's fleeing footsteps. Nothing could make this alright. A bitterness swept over her shoulders, dragging its fingers down her spine, chilling the blood in her veins. There was nothing here for her, she realized. Nothing but money. What was she thinking.

The blonde allowed herself to slump against the wall, her back received by the welcome stone, her throat taut as the hanged mans rope. More liquid crimson poured from her wound, her fists balling at her sides. That woman. She didn't know who she was toying with. She didn't know what she was getting herself into. Yet something still stirred, something small and dormant in the pit of her stomach, something that drove her nuts. Something she couldn't quite place, or maybe just didn't want to place for fear of naming it. There was power in names. "Michiru…" The blonde let out a weak chuckle and shook her head, only faintly aware of the sounds of more footsteps proceeding down the stairs. She glared at the blearing white door and tasted the sand. Tasted that metallic, thick, viscous liquid slide down her throat. Could hear the sound of her voice, ghosting her name against the soft underside of her ear.

"…pper…"

She was faintly aware of a presence on top of her, the warmth of their body returning her senses to her only in the slightest. Cream. She felt cream against the rough calluses of her palms, her fingers nimbly prodding at the soft flesh straddling her. She felt lips against her skin, her body burning for the salty sweet kisses of the musician.

"Scrapper…"

She blinked a couple of times, the edges of her vision blurry. Perhaps she had lost a lot more blood than originally assessed? The thought briefly crossed her mind, her fingers knitting even tighter to try and staunch the blood flow. Who was that? A scent that accosted her nose. Smelled like other men. Smelled like cheap nights in a barn house, mixed with fresh cut hay and spunk. Emerald eyes pierced through her haze.

"But you have blue eyes…?" She gave the young woman a curious look, taking her hand away to brush crimson against the paleness of her cheek. Tears welled in the emerald depths. Had she said something to hurt her?

"RING AN AMBULANCE, NOW." Her voice was thicker, less gentle upon the ears. It echoed and bounced in her head. But it didn't make her lips buzz. Haruka blinked a few more times, the stupor induced by shock quickly beginning to wear off. Jordan sat poised upon her lap, her hands cupping her face in an effort to make eye contact, her throat moving in time with the sounds of her panicked yells. Haruka grit her teeth, her mood suddenly soured, tossing her head to rid her face of the fingers that accosted her so.

"You're not Michiru." Her voice wasn't quite her own, the syllables slurring off of her tongue as if she was drunk. A headache pounded against her eyes only made worse by the slapping of shoe heels upon concrete. White hot chills racked her body, sweat beading up from all of her pores, her fingers weakly grasping at the hole in her side. Warm fingers locked with hers, Jordan's emerald stare panicked and on the verge of tears.

"Fuck you, scrapper." She cursed. Resentment lingered in the soft undertones of her voice, her palms pressing down upon Haruka. The blondes hand threatened to slip away, but Jordan would have none of that.

"So this is how I'm going to die?" Haruka let out a laugh. "By a stray bullet and with a beautiful tart on top of me? There could be worse ways to go."

"I'm flattered you find me attractive, kitty cat, but shut your damn mouth. You aren't going to die today." A determination had sprung up in the young vixen. But she was right. Haruka couldn't die. There was too much at stake for that to be possible. Too much weighing on her shoulders in order for her to give up and lie down. More dark shapes loomed over her, a bright light flashing through her eyes, pupils dilating a wild look surely upon her face. She felt like a trapped, wounded animal, her heart weakly fluttering at ten million times a minute. Run. That's all she wanted to do. Get away from this place and never come back. But…she licked her lips. They still tasted.

"Move woman!"

"We have another one down here!"

"It looks pretty bad."

"Get a stretcher!"

Haruka felt like she was underwater, the shouts all distorted within her inner ear. She felt someone lift Jordan up off of her body, her fingers receding from her own. "Don't." It slipped out before she could stop herself. Everything was falling out from beneath her and she didn't know how to stop it. Many sets of hands pressed all over her body. She locked eyes with the last friendly ones that she had known and clung. Sure, it was stupid. The smell of hay burned her senses. But she still couldn't let go. She was lifted, a sense of weightlessness making her head swim, her fingers grasping out for the young dancer.

To say she wasn't scared would have been a lie. She was scared. But she was also proud. She retracted her hand. She would be fine. This was all just a minor set back. Nothing more nothing less. Emerald eyes burned into her flesh, a prostitutes warm fingers finding her own as they moved up the stairs and out towards the real world. Haruka never looked away from her life line.

* * *

Defeat.

It welled up, infiltrating every sense and every nerve that she possessed. Her head dropped, shoulders threatening to shake with the sobs that desperately tried to rack her body. Once the die has been cast, you can't escape the outcome. The young musician could feel the edges of her mask beginning to crack, could feel the worn lines running along the mirror of her psyche. She crossed her arms in front of her chest, people groaning on the floor, blood staining the hardwood. She clucked her tongue. That would never come out.

Pieces of glass mixed with pieces of bone and flesh where men, too excited, had smashed each others heads in. Bullet holes pierced the window overlooking the entrance door, threatening to shatter the veil that they had worked so hard to drop down between these two worlds. Emergency technicians pulled the injured from the wreckage of the mob, dragging them from the mock safety that these four walls had instituted. She heard yelling, heard screaming, but it all fell on deafened ears. A man was waiting for her. A man with a swollen purse and locked lips. Business was business. Do everything in your power to make your contractors and allies happy. That's what he had always told her. Her heart slowed with each step she made towards the private boxes, bits of matter lightly clinging to her sole. It's best to leave your humanity on the floor. Where it can be trampled and destroyed before you even have a chance to become attached to it. It's best to just leave your individuality hanging at the end of a taut rope to sway back and forth against the currents this world has to offer. It's best to do as you are expected. It's best to keep your promises.

She straightened her dress, running her fingers through her hair, a distant gaze left in the wake of her vacant blue eyes. She passed his hired hand, his broad shouldered body placed protectively next to Van Toff's door. He gave her a small nod, the line of his mouth set in a grim frown, his eyebrows stitched into steel. Her hand twisted the brass doorknob. And she quietly entered the room, making herself known only by the sound of the latch locking into place.

"There are so many wonders in this world, my dear." The older gentleman stood on the far end of the room in front of the large smoky window, a glass of liquor held in his gnarled hands. He motioned her forward, his other arm ready to welcome her. He did not turn to face her. She floated across the room, his hand dropping lightly upon her shoulder, the pads of his fingers tartly playing with the seam of her neckline. "There are so many things to see. Things to do. Harlots to fuck…" His sticky breath clung to her skin, goose bumps springing up along the back of her neck. Her teeth snapped shut, jaw locked to hold back any sort of response that she had on her lips.

"But it's all so trivial when you can just reach out and grab it." He removed his arm from around her, swirling his drink in his hand, the soft chiming of ice against glass piercing through her ears. She leaned against the poker table, her back to the window, her hands gingerly sweeping her long hair to rest on the left side of her neck, exposing her flesh, asserting her submission. "I like to fight for it. To take what is another's." The weight of the empty glass being placed upon the bar counter sounded like an iron ball dropping. He removed his jacket, carefully folding it and placing it next to his glass. Dark eyes sunken in, he slowly advanced, her fingers lightly gripping the edge of the table, knuckles white.

"To work for what you want," he ran a finger along the curve of her neck, his nose buried within the soft confines of her hair. He inhaled deeply, his finger trailing along her collar bone. "It's weakness." His hands worked against the buttons of her dress, the shoulders falling lose, exposing her white flesh underneath. She looked away, eyes distant. Humanity left on the floor. Bleeding out and staining the hardwood. His mouth latched onto her neck, his fingers holding her against him, hot irons branding her skin with trails of lust. He bit down, piercing through her, beads of blood bubbling to the surface. Alarmed, she stiffened, her heart seeming to stop in her chest. "To take it?" He rose, his eyes dark, his fingers entwining themselves around the front of her gown.

"Van Toff, please don—"

"That's real power." He wrenched his arm away, the sound of tearing fabric fraying at the edges caught in her mouth. He'd never been this way. Had never…his fingers locked around her neck, her body slammed back against the table, head swimming with exploding white stars, a ringing deep within her ear. Panic bubbled to the surface, her own hands locked around his wrist, her eyes wild with fear, oxygen passing too slowly through her constricted throat. He was a lot stronger than he looked. And more fearsome than she imagined.

He was hot against her, murderous intent gleaming in those dark orbs. "You do not disrespect me, Miss Kaioh. You DO NOT DISRESPECT ME." Her head lulled over the side of the table, her eyes distant, his screams dead on her ears. He wouldn't kill her. His hand released, his fingernails piercing through her flesh, her insides ripped and churning with his lust. The flood of oxygen made her light headed, her eyes slowly roving over the emergency personnel, a dizzying space left in the wake of his hand.

A stretcher was being pulled. Blonde locks fell over the victims face. Green eyes wandered. Strong hands grasped a surly harlots. Lips meant only for her spoke another's name. And for the first time in her life, Michiru Kiaoh felt the bitter pangs of jealousy.

* * *

An unfamiliar ceiling in an unfamiliar place. Her eyes drifted open, the sound of rushing people and wailing sirens blearing in her head. Whiteness surrounded her, the color of something clean. The color of something pure. Fingers grasped at her hand, smoothing the skin, trying to rub away the blood that had stained them. She wanted to rock her head over and stare at the owner of those fingers. She wanted to say "Sorry sweetheart, but there's nothing in this world that can erase that mark." The young scrapper prayed, her eyes adjusting and focusing, her head lolling to the side so she could get a good view of her caretaker. Prayed that it was a blue eyed vixen with a sharp tongue and soft lips.

A weak prayer, she knew, since she never prayed. God doesn't listen to the poor. God doesn't answer the dying. And it was no different here. Dark brown locks ticked the exposed skin on her arm, emerald eyes sagging with exhaustion. How long had she been here? Her brown knit up into confusion, vaguely aware of the conversation that the young dancer was having with what she assumed was a nurse. They hadn't taken notice of her yet.

"…next of kin…"

"…sister…"

The grip on her hand grew tighter, as if Jordon feared that she would have to let go. Haruka's heart felt dead in her chest. "Damn violinist," she cursed as she pulled herself up. Fire erupted along her side, skin pulling against threads that bound itself together. Something felt hollow inside of her. As if a shaft had been carved out of her muscle and left to collapse in upon itself. She gasped in pain, head swimming.

"You're awake." The brunette whirled, relief washing over her, her lips gently placed to the back of her hand. Haruka raised an eyebrow, her lips curling just in the slightest. She was kind of cute, at least. And it wasn't like she was the worst of company.

"Barely…what the hell happened?" It was all just a blur. There was a gunshot. A mob. Warm lips. Heat began to snake its way up her neck. That didn't happen…did it? What a stupid joke for her mind to making up such ludicrous stories. To be dangling things in front of her. She gripped the blankets.

"There was a riot…you were shot. I'm not sure how, but you managed to claw your way down into a side alley…" Wait…what? Haruka gave her a sidelong glance. She at least for sure knew that she wasn't in any street riot. What was she trying to pull? "The streets are still burning." A low roar of voices drifted through her rooms window. "Burrows has gone completely mad."

Gunshots thundered.

"What do you mean? What happened!" She began to pull back the covers of her bed before the nurse pressed a gently hand against her chest.

"They've lynched him, Haruka." It was Nan standing now in the doorway, her eyes downcast.

"Who Nan, who?" Why wasn't anyone telling her anything. Jesus Christ!

"Your father."

* * *

**A/N:** Okay, so it's a little shorter than all of my other chapters, I must admit. I'm so so so so so sorry about the whole "I'm going to fall of the face of the planet and probably never come back," but well, here I am. I'm alive and here's another chapter. I know it's been two years in the making and I'm sure some of you will rejoice, while some of you will be just all "wtf mate?" It's not the best, but like…I know that some certain things had to happen and I was all "well, shit." So this is the result. I realize that this chapter is a little graphic and I apologize, but it was time for some people to show their true colors and I thought "Hey, we can all be regular adults here, can't we?"

Hopefully I'll be updating more regularly again. I'm going to try my hardest, to say the least. Now that I'm out of school and all I do is work my fingers to the bone, I have a little more time to write for fun. Uhm…since the last time I updated, I got me a haircut…and I've played about a billion games and beaten quite a few. I'm currently on a Mai-HiME binge and have been writing original fiction for quite some time. Er…yeah.

**T.** – So, I got your last review and I was all "….yeah I should update." Besides, the only way for me to talk to you is if I DO update, which makes me sort of sad because I like you. Because you give awesome insight.

**Lin** - ; I did it! Hooray.

Okay, well I've got to be going to work now. Hopefully I'll get some good feedback on this new chapter. There are so many things that I want to change within this story, I thought about completely rewriting it, and maybe I will, but that's a project for a different day. I'd like to at least finish this version first before I completely scrap it.

Well…I'll see you guys later. I'll update again, I'm sure of it. Have a little faith.

Heart: Me.


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